Gentleman's Masquerade
by Tori of Lorien
Summary: Sequel to 'The Forgotten Heir.' On their most dangerous hunt for a relic from one of history's darkest eras, Ben and his family risk everything in the fight against the past that could unravel a world mystery… or end in death. Full summary inside.
1. Prologue

**Gentleman's Masquerade**

**Summary**: "That's the point of a masquerade, to hide your true self from the world." In the dance of life and death, the master always leads. On their most dangerous hunt for a relic from one of history's darkest eras, Ben and his family risk everything in the fight against the past that could unravel a world mystery… or end in death.

**Disclaimer**: Nothing in this story is mine except for the idea and the characters that I created. You will know who they are.

**A/N**: Welcome back, everyone! Wow, it feels weird coming back here to fanfiction and working on a different story, let me tell you. But it almost feels like I never really left these stories, especially since this is the third installment in the "Three Words" trilogy (I'm almost one hundred percent sure that it's going to remain a trilogy, though, so this will in fact truly be the last one if that's the case). This is also the part where I get all those really annoying notes about the story out of the way, so let's do that real fast. As I said in the trailer, this story is a higher rated "T" for its darkness (not "M" though). This isn't going to be a sunny walk in the park, guys. There will be a couple fluffy moments, primarily in the beginning and end, but this isn't going to be like the previous two where you knew for sure something sweet or funny was going to happen to lighten the dramatic moments. There will be a lot of things in here that make this probably my darkest story that I have written for this site to date. It'll be an emotional roller coaster. It won't be like my other ones where you are sure that everything's going to be okay or everyone we love's going to make it all the way through. I'm telling you right now that there are absolutely _no_ guarantees. Just to warn you all now. Oh, and please, please, _please_ read "Three Words" and "The Forgotten Heir" first if you have not already and are just now stumbling upon this story. This is the third story in the series, so there will be some things you will not understand if you haven't read those two first. I think that's about it… So, if there are any questions, please feel free to ask me. Are you ready? All right then, here we go!

_Prologue_

The young boy's blue eyes slowly opened when he heard the sound of soft music coming from through the floor beneath him. He sleepily sat up on his bed as he looked around his dark room in confusion, his strands of golden blond hair falling everywhere in a mess around his face. Brushing it back as best as he could, he slipped out from under the covers of his overly large bed and quietly opened the door to investigate where the music was coming from. He looked up and down the hallway to see if anyone was around to discover him, and then he snuck out of his room and ran down the curving, stone staircase.

The seven-year-old boy entered the massive entrance hall, hearing that the music was coming from behind a set of tall, ornate doors on the far wall opposite him. Knowing that it was the dance hall, he crossed the distance in a run and pushed open one of the doors with difficulty before slipping inside.

Many people dance and swirled around him as he moved slowly through the high-ceilinged room. It was dimly lit by the lanterns that were hanging on the walls and ceiling along with the dim light cast by the full moon that filtered in through the tall, many-paned windows. The dancers appeared menacing in the limited lighting as they moved effortlessly, and they also had sinister-looking masks covering their true faces, which added to the dark aura coming from them.

He panicked as he pushed his way through the crowd and ignored every time one of the masked dancers would cast a look in his direction, searching frantically for someone that he recognized. Of course, the boy knew that it would be almost impossible to do so when everyone was wearing masks like this. Right now, he knew no one. He then looked anxiously around, wanting to try to find a way to escape from the room, but he didn't even know where the doors were anymore.

Suddenly, he gasped when he saw one dancer that stood out to him was more terrifying than the others that he had already seen that night. This man's steps were graceful and flawless, fluid and quick as he pulled the woman on his hand that he instantly recognized to be his mother with him in his movements. He moved with power and determination, but also with a certain grace that made his dance more beautiful, but also more terrifying. This dance that was familiar to him since he had seen it done so many times before only belonged to one man that the boy knew, which didn't help to settle his nerves in the least. The mask that he wore was one with vampire features, and the boy watched in horror as the man with black hair slowly leaned toward the woman he was dancing with as he steps paused momentarily.

The boy finally willed his legs to move as he tried to run in another direction to escape from the man with the vampire mask, but all of the dancers were quickly moving around him again. He saw with despair that the same horrifying man was in front of him again, and a scared whimper escaped from him as he sat on the cool, marble floor and wrapped his arms and legs around him protectively.

Many pairs of dark eyes turned to look at him at the sound, artificial smiles or frowns plastered on their faces due to the masks they wore. One of them was the man with the vampire mask. He released the woman the had been dancing with and walked toward him, the other dancers moving out of his way to let him pass, and the boy covered his head and began to tremble fearfully as tears formed in his eyes. This man's clothing was by far the most intricate with its ornate designs, but that didn't make him any less terrifying. In fact, it probably made him more terrifying.

When the man approached him and slowly bent over to reach a hand toward him, the boy flinched as though he had been struck and attempted to back away from him. "It's all right, Ian," the vampire then said in a kind, familiar voice. "It's only me."

Seven-year-old Ian Howe cautiously looked up at the man from behind his arms, watching warily as he slowly reached up and removed his vampire mask to reveal his true face behind it. The boy's eyes lit up when he recognized the man to be his father, though he would have much preferred have been found by his mother. He then realized that that had been the reason he had recognized his dancing since he watched the man and his mother dance together many nights after dinner. He then reached up toward him in a pleading way, and Richard Howe bent over again and lifted Ian up into his arms. The young boy laid his head on the man's shoulder and clung to him tightly as he swiftly moved through the crowd, which was now beginning to dance again.

Richard effortlessly pushed open one of the doors that led back into the entrance hall, and he could feel that his son had become less tense since they were now away from the masked dancers as they made their way up the staircase. The two were silent as they walked down the hallway and into the boy's dark room, and Richard set the seven-year-old on his bed as he sat beside him.

"What were you doing down at the dance, Ian?" he asked while he covered him back up with his blankets, a source of both warm and comfort for the boy. "I hold them after your bedtime for a reason, you know."

"I heard music, so I went down to look," Ian answered quietly, lying back against his pillows. Then, he met his father's almost amused gaze with fear in his eyes. "I was so scared. I couldn't tell who anyone was."

Richard laughed a little, but it was a soft and kind laugh. "Well, Son. That's the point of a masquerade, to hide your true self from the world."

Ian looked back at him, feeling confused. "But why would you want to pretend to be an evil monster like Dracula?" he wondered. He recognized the mask that his father had been wearing now, and he knew the stories behind the man and the legend. Both were horrible in their own right, and he wondered why his father would want to be someone like that.

Another laugh came from Richard as he looked down at the mask that was still in his hand, and a knowing smile appeared on his face. "Even Count Dracula was once a gentleman," he told Ian. When he saw his young son's bewildered expression, he shook his head while the smile lingered on his face. "Never mind that. Get some sleep now, Ian. It's very late."

The young boy nodded as he situated himself into a more comfortable position on his pillow, his eyes closing in clear exhaustion. Richard laughed again, leaning over to kiss his son's blond head before gently ruffling his hair. "Good night, Ian," he whispered once he was sure that his son was asleep, putting on his mask again so he would be ready when he rejoined his wife downstairs. "Sweet dreams."

**A/N**: Well, that's it for that! Just a short, eerie little piece to set the mood (and theme) of the story. Can anyone guess the theme yet, lol? Still, it's an important part of the story (plus it's little Ian, which you hardly ever see!), and I hope you all enjoyed it. Oh, and just to let you know, when I write with the actual Dracula like you saw in the trailer, I'm imagining the Richard Roxburgh Dracula if you saw the movie _Van Helsing_ since he was like the coolest I've ever seen. So, yeah. Oh, and there are new pictures on my profile of the older Clara, her crush, and Richard (when he's older) on my profile beneath the ones of Nick, Dustin, and little Clara, so if you want to stop by and check those out, feel free. Thanks for inspiring this story, guys, because if I hadn't gotten all of your support for the first two, this story probably wouldn't even be in existence. Also, thank you so much to **Halo** for helping me to map this story out! I couldn't have done it all without you. And thanks to you all for reading! Your reviews are much appreciated! Thank you!


	2. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer**: Nope, nothing is mine… yet. Lol! Okay, nothing from _National Treasure_ is mine except for this idea and my Ocs (which, I must add, I think you'll really like the new ones in this story!).

**A/N**: Hey, guys! Wow, I'm glad that you all really liked that prologue. Kinda creepy, huh? Well, as I said, this whole story will have a darker feel to it. Not this chapter necessarily, but it will get darker, trust me! Now, the rest of this story takes place in the present, which is seven years after the last story. I think you'll all still enjoy it though. Anyway, thank you so much to **Thuraya Known**, **daisyduke80**, **Receneck**, **kutlessgurl90**, **broadwaylover07**, **Miss Fenway**, **LoremIpsum**, **Halo**, **LupinandHarry**, and **MonkeyShooter07** for your encouraging reviews for the prologue! It's good to see most of you guys back, which means that you aren't tired of my stories yet, and that I see some new people too! I really appreciate it all, guys, you rock! Oh, and if you got the chance to see the new character pics on my profile, I hope you liked them because you'll probably want to refer to them a lot in this story. Anyway, here's the first chapter!

_Chapter 1_

"Come on down now, Clara! It's almost nine! Your date will be here soon!"

"Coming, Daddy!"

Benjamin Franklin Gates stood at the base of his winding staircase, waiting for his now fifteen-year-old daughter to come down them. He couldn't believe how much time had gone by. It seemed like just the other day that she had been eight years old and they had been in St. Petersburg, Russia, fighting to stop the disease threat presented by Artem, and now, she was in her second year of high school and preparing to go to her Fall Dance, which appropriately took place on Halloween night. She had grown up so much in what felt like a short period of time.

Another strange thing that had happened over the course of the incredibly fast seven years was that Ian Howe, a man who he had at one time considered an enemy, and his three associates were now an extended part of the Gates family. That had started in Russia as well when Clara had begun to call Nick, Powell, Ian, and even Phil when he arrived "uncle," and the relationships between the four men and his daughter had only grown stronger since. Ben himself even admitted that he was surprised by how well they treated Clara, and his own respect for Ian had also grown when the English man had helped to save his best friend's life.

Computer genius Riley Poole had been captured by the Russian men after his older brother, Dustin, had been killed, and since they had found the disease that Artem had demanded but couldn't open the locket that contained it, the crazed man had infected the techie with the deadly toxin so they could force the cure out. Riley had almost died that day, and Ben fearfully admitted that he probably would have if Ian wouldn't have been there to help him deal with Artem.

But that was in the past now, and since Riley had recovered and Ian hadn't betrayed them again, he was going to put their experience in Russia behind him, along with Ian's first betrayal during the hunt for the Templar Treasure. Now, he had more important things to worry about, like Clara being ready on time for her first dance.

"Come on, Clara!"

"Sorry, Daddy! I'm coming down now!"

Ben smiled slightly when he heard quick footsteps coming down the stairs, and it only broadened when his daughter appeared. Clara was wearing a flowing white dress that stopped at her white heels with white gloves that covered her hands and forearms. In her hand, she held a shimmering white mask that was attached to a long white stick since the theme of the dance was a masquerade. Her light blonde hair was held back behind her head in a bun with a few strands hanging loose, and around her neck was her favorite silver rose necklace that her Uncle Nick had gotten her for her last birthday.

"You look beautiful," Ben was only able to mutter when she stopped in front of him.

Clara smiled, one that mirrored her father's, as she hugged him tightly. "Thank you, Daddy," she said quietly.

"Ah, there she is!"

Ben and Clara pulled apart and watched as Abigail entered the front hall from the living room with Riley and Ian close behind her. "You look wonderful, honey," her mother continued, pulling the fifteen-year-old into a tight hug. "I'm so proud of you."

"Thanks, Mom." Clara looked over Abigail's shoulder and saw that Riley was beaming at her and Ian was smiling, and she smiled broadly back at them in excitement.

"I can't believe you're going to your first dance," Abigail said as she let go of Clara, a thin line of tears in her eyes. "This is just so exciting…"

"Abi, relax. Give the poor girl a chance to breathe, will you?" Riley asked sarcastically as he came up behind her and placed his hand on the blonde woman's shoulder. Then, he turned his attention to his niece. "Seriously though, Clara, I can't believe this is your first dance. You could have gone last year."

Clara laughed. "We've gone over this before, Uncle Riley. I didn't want to go to a dance unless someone asked me," she told him as she hugged him quickly.

Riley rolled his eyes as he released her. "Yeah, but I'm sure that if _you_ had asked any guy to go with you last year, they would have said yes," he replied. "I guess that it really is a good thing that you were preparing for the school's Fall Play all summer. Otherwise, you wouldn't be going to this dance either."

The fifteen-year-old nodded, but she blushed slightly. For the last two, almost three months of summer, she and the rest of the cast of "Beauty and the Beast" had rehearsed for the debut of the play, which would be the night after the Fall Dance. Clara surprisingly had landed the lead role of Belle over her junior and senior competitors, but since her hair was blonde, she would have to use temporary brown hair dye for the nights of the performances.

And during the rehearsals, Clara had begun to have a crush on one of the other cast members, but it wasn't the senior boy playing the Beast. It was actually the boy a year older than her playing the role of the hotheaded Gaston. His name was Jasper Harker, a junior who had moved to the United States with his grandmother and younger twin sisters, Isabel and Mae, from somewhere in the Transylvania area. She had been debating for about three weeks whether or not to ask him to the Fall Dance, so it came as both a surprise and a relief when he had asked her first.

"I'm just glad that he asked me before I had to ask him," Clara said with a laugh.

Then, everyone turned their heads to the door when the sound of the doorbell echoed around them. Clara felt her nerves beginning to rise up inside of her, so Ben had to pull her along with him to the door as he opened it.

A boy with chin-length black hair and sapphire eyes stood on the step, and a smile appeared on his face when he saw Clara. Then, he bowed his head politely and extended his arm forward, a single rose in his hand.

"Thank you, Jasper," Clara said happily, taking the rose from him and smelling its sweet scent once before handing it to Abigail to put in a vase full of water.

"You're welcome," Jasper replied, his voice thick with a Transylvanian accent. "It's a tradition in my home country to offer a rose to a girl that you find special."

Clara blushed again when she heard the last part of his statement. Jasper smiled at her before turning to look at Ben. "Thank you for allowing me to bring your daughter to the dance, Mr. Gates," he said.

"Sure, Jasper," Ben nodded with a smile of his own. "Just make sure that you guys have lots of fun, but be careful. Clara, Uncle Riley will come get you once the dance ends at midnight, okay?"

Riley nodded. "Yep, I'll be there," he confirmed as he looked at Jasper. "Hey, I'm looking forward to the play tomorrow night."

"Thank you. I hope you can all be there," Jasper said with a smile that was directed toward Clara. "I can promise you that you will not be disappointed." Clara smiled as color rose to her cheeks again.

"Well, we won't keep you any longer, Clara," Abigail said, kissing her daughter's cheek before hugging her. "Have fun, and I want to hear all about it when you come home."

"Okay, Mom," Clara replied with a smile. "Love you. You too, Daddy, Uncle Riley, Uncle Ian."

There was a chorus of "love you toos" as Jasper held out his arm for Clara. She took it and was led outside, leaving her family standing in the doorway behind her. "Hey, take care of my little bundle of joy!" Riley suddenly shouted after them.

Clara felt color rising in her cheeks in embarrassment when she heard her favorite uncle's preferred nickname for her while Jasper just appeared confused. "Never mind. Don't even ask," she whispered to him as she sped her pace a little.

Riley smirked, realizing that his goal had been accomplished. "Remember, I'm your uncle if you like it or not!" he called after her retreating figure. "I'm supposed to embarrass you!"

"Does he do this a lot?" Jasper asked quietly, chancing a glance back at the house.

"Unfortunately, all of the time," Clara answered glumly, but a small smile appeared on her face. "You'll find that my family is very strange. But I couldn't ask for a better one. My uncles tease me mercilessly, but they are also very protective. I love them so much."

"I can already tell that your family is odd," Jasper said with a smile of his own. "But just how many uncles do you have?"

"Five total," Clara told him. "They're not actually related to me though. One, my Uncle Riley who likes to embarrass me, is my dad's best friend, and he's always been my uncle and godfather. Uncle Ian, the other man that was at the house, is from England, and he was a friend of my dad's that we met when we went to St. Petersburg, Russia. His stepbrother, who is my Uncle Nick, is from America, and I met him in Russia too. Along with them, I met their friends, Uncle Powell who is from Scotland and Uncle Phil from America, in Russia. I grew attached to them while we were there, and they've been my uncles ever since."

Jasper looked almost confused again, and Clara laughed a little. "So, none of your uncles are actually related to you?"

"Nope," Clara replied. "My dad doesn't have any brothers, or sisters for that matter. My mom has a brother that I don't know who lives in California though. Since I don't know him, I don't really consider him my uncle."

"You also mentioned that they were very protective," Jasper continued, almost a little nervously. "Just _how_ protective are they?"

Clara laughed at the question that she had been anticipating to hear. "They're protective, but not _too _protective if that's what you mean," she told him. "What are you expecting they'll do, spy on you?"

* * *

Ben smiled, watching as Jasper walked down the long driveway with Clara to where his grandmother had parked her car. The older woman embraced his daughter while Jasper opened the back door for her before climbing in after her. Then, they drove away, and the treasure hunter closed the front door of the house.

"He seems like a nice kid," he commented, turning to face his wife and friends.

"Yeah, Clara seems really happy with him," Riley agreed while Abigail nodded her approval. "At least he's polite." Then, he glanced down at his watch while he failed to suppress a yawn. "I think I'm going to run home and catch a quick nap before I have to go get her in three hours."

"Actually, Riley, I'm going to be out with the guys tonight," Ian said from where he was leaning against the wall. "If you want, we can swing by and pick her up and drop her off here."

Riley considered his offer for only a moment. He _was_ awfully tired, and it would be great to have one night to spend home all night and relax. "Well, all right," he finally gave in. "Thanks, Ian."

"No problem. It's my pleasure," Ian replied. "So, I think I'm going to head out too. I've got something to take care of, and I still have to pick up Nick, Powell, and Phil. But did you guys want to come over to our apartment tomorrow for dinner before we go to Clara's play?"

"Yeah, that would be great," Ben told him, especially since it would save Abigail a night of cooking. "I think Clara will be spending the day with Jasper and his grandmother tomorrow anyway, so that would work out. How about you, Riley?"

"Yeah, I can be there," Riley said. "Hey, it's free food, right? Just don't poison it, okay, Ian?"

Ian smiled at the joke. "All right, I won't touch yours," he muttered with a wink. "Excellent. So, I'll see you all tomorrow then."

"See you tomorrow."

"Later, guys." Ian nodded to the trio, and then he stepped out into the cool nigh and shut the door behind him.

* * *

"All right, Phil. Go. Thirty seconds."

Ian Howe looked apprehensively around him at the dark, quiet night to make sure no one was around while Phil immediately began to unscrew the grate over the entrance of the air vent of the brick building. He, Phil, Powell, and Nick were all wearing black jeans and their trademark black leather jackets in hopes that they would be more concealed in the dark.

"Done," Phil announced quietly, removing the heavy grate and leaning it against the wall next to him.

"Good," Ian said. He then turned to his stepbrother, who stood beside him. "Nick."

The younger man instantly moved forward and ducked into the air vent, crawling through the metal tunnel for a while until he reached a part that sloped upward. Nick attempted to climb it, but he found that his foot kept slipping. "The incline is too steep and smooth to climb without help," he reported back.

"All right," Ian muttered. "Powell."

The older man reached into his backpack and pulled out small grips for him to attach to his palms and the bottom of his shoes. "Here you go, kid," he said, handing them to Nick. Then, he handed another set to Ian. "You'll need a couple of flashlights too."

"Well done," Ian replied, taking the flashlight that Powell handed him and putting it in his coat pocket before passing the second one to Nick. "All right, listen up. Nick and I are going to go through the air vent to get to the location. Powell, you need to get in through the second story by means of fire escape to be able to sneak downstairs. Phil, you stay outside to patrol the perimeter and keep watch from out here. Keep your walkie-talkies on. If anything goes wrong, meet back right here. All right. Everyone in position, sixty seconds."

Ian watched as Powell made a dash for the black ladder that curled its way up to the second floor at the corner of the building while Phil walked in the opposite direction. Then, he turned to his younger stepbrother and nodded. "Okay, go."

Nick turned and climbed back into the air vent with Ian behind him. He took out his small flashlight when they stopped at the base of the incline and put it between his top and bottom front teeth to hold it in place while he put the grips around his hands and on his shoes. Ian did the same, and then they made the climb up through the vent.

The journey wasn't too long going up before the metal tunnel evened out again. The stepbrothers removed the grips but kept their flashlights out as they continued crawling. They went over a few grates that looked down into dark, empty rooms, but they passed those up and went on.

"Found it," Nick suddenly muttered, stopping when he saw the room that they had been searching for. He crawled over it and turned around to face Ian as the English man approached, and they both looked down into the room that was filled with people and gave off a dim light.

Ian pulled out his walkie-talkie when he and Nick located the one person that they were targeting. "Target codename: Blondie is in sight," he muttered into the small electronic device, though he doubted that he would be heard over the music that was being played below. "What's your position?"

A moment passed before they got a response. "_I made it inside and am now waiting in a back hallway downstairs looking into the room,_" Powell told him, his voice crackling through the device. "_Blondie is in sight._"

"_Affirmative, Blondie is in sight,_" Phil's voice agreed a minute later. "_I'm outside the window looking in. We're in position, Ian._"

"Good. Stay there, but make sure you remain out of sight," Ian told them both. "Over and out."

"Do you think Clara will be mad if she finds out we were spying on her at her first dance?" Nick asked quietly while Ian put away the walkie-talkie, watching as his niece dance with a masked boy.

"She's not going to find out," Ian answered him confidently. "Besides, it's for her own good. We have to see how this Jasper kid treats her. If he doesn't treat her right, well… use your imagination."

Nick smirked a little as he resumed watching Clara. "Creative theme for a dance, don't you think?" he commented. "_We_ never had a masquerade. Right on Halloween too. It's perfect."

Ian nodded in silent agreement, but when he clearly saw the mask that Jasper was wearing, one that had vampire features, he gasped quietly as his eyes widened and his smile vanished when memories suddenly came flooding back to him.

"_I was so scared. I couldn't tell who anyone was."_

_The man in the vampire mask towered over him, and he flinched away in fear._

"_Well, Son. That's the point of a masquerade, to hide your true self from the world."_

_Richard Howe, his father, slowly reached up and removed his mask to reveal his actual face._

"_To hide your true self from the world…"_

"Ian, are you all right?" Nick asked, concern clear in his voice.

The English man slowly tore his eyes away from the people dancing beneath him and raised his gaze to his stepbrother, and he ran his hand through his blond hair almost nervously. "I'm fine, Nick," he answered in a mutter, though a cold sweat had settled on his face. "We still have a while until midnight, so we might as well make ourselves comfortable."

* * *

Clara smiled to herself as she finished her small piece of pumpkin pie and took a sip of her apple cider. She had never had so much fun before, and Jasper was everything she was searching for in a guy and more. She was so happy that he had asked her to the dance and that she was going to spend time with him and his grandmother the next day before the play. Nothing could possibly ruin her night now.

Then, Clara gasped quietly when someone came up behind her and put their hands on her shoulders. She turned around and saw that it was a boy wearing a familiar vampire mask. "Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you," Jasper said. She would recognize that accent anywhere.

"That's all right," Clara replied, finishing her drink. "It's Halloween night, after all. A couple of scares are acceptable. Besides, you didn't really _scare_ me. It was more of a startle."

Jasper slowly removed his mask as he grinned. "Well, that's good." He glanced behind him when the song "Thriller" ended and a slow song began. Then, he took Clara's gloved hand in his. "May I have this dance?"

Clara smiled broadly as she nodded. "Yes." Then, she allowed him to bring her out on to the dance floor after he put his mask back on, hers held up by their joined hands, and they began to gently move together to the beautiful harmony.

When midnight eventually approached, Clara didn't want the dance to end. She was having too much fun. But then, once the final song ended, the lights suddenly flickered and went out, casting the entire room into blackness. There were gasps and uncomfortable mutterings, and then one light came on that was aimed at the stage. The principal of their school, Mr. Grillo, now barely recognizable, was standing on it with torn clothes and a pale face and black rings around his eyes with his hair disheveled, making him look like one of the undead.

"Now that the witching hour has come, we depart from the warmth and safety of the school to go into the night," he announced, his tone containing a creepy edge that the students had never heard before. "Be careful, for you never know what horrors may wait for you in the darkness." But then, a smile appeared on his face, and he dropped his act. "I hope you all had fun tonight, and I'll see you at the play tomorrow. I want to extend a warm 'break a leg' to all of the cast members. Oh, and… one more thing." His tone dropped lower in pitch as it darkened again.

"Sweet dreams."

Then, all of the lights in the gymnasium came on, and the students began to grab their coats and head for the exit doors. Clara stuck close to Jasper so they wouldn't be separated, but suddenly, she thought she caught a glimpse of familiar-looking figure with curly black hair in the darkness of the hallway. But as soon as she saw the man, he was gone. Realizing that she must have been seeing things, Clara shook her head and kept on walking. Uncle Powell hadn't been there, and besides, he and his friends wouldn't spy on her and Jasper.

Or would they? Actually, the more she thought about it, the more she knew she wouldn't be surprised if Powell, Ian, Nick, and Phil did pull a stunt like that. She would have to ask them about that the next time she saw them.

The night air was chilly, and Clara shivered slightly as she walked toward the street outside of the school with Jasper beside her. She searched for Uncle Riley's familiar red Ferrari, but she didn't see it anywhere.

Then, the sound of a car horn reached their ears as a black SUV pulled to a stop in front of them. Clara's grip tightened instinctively around Jasper's arm, but then a confused smile appeared on her face when the tinted passenger window rolled down only to reveal…

"Uncle Nick, what are you doing here? Wasn't Uncle Riley supposed to pick me up?" She saw that Ian was behind the wheel, and she figured that Powell and Phil were in the backseat.

"He was, but we were going to be out anyway, so Ian told him that we would swing by and pick you up instead," Nick explained. "Now, climb on in, cutie. It's late and it's getting chilly."

"Okay. Thanks, Uncle Nick," Clara replied. Then, she turned to face Jasper with a smile, who was still standing close beside her. "Thank you so much for tonight. I had such a great time."

"Good, I'm glad. I had a great time too," Jasper said. Then, he leaned forward and quickly kissed Clara on the cheek- another custom in his country. "I'll see you tomorrow. My grandmother will pick you up for lunch around eleven."

Clara could feel four pairs of eyes watching her carefully, but she ignored them as she smiled at him again. "Sounds great. See you tomorrow, Jasper." Then, she turned and climbed into the backseat of the SUV next to Powell and shut the door behind her.

As she was putting on her seatbelt, Clara noticed the four equipment backpacks behind her seat, and she was instantly suspicious of what her uncles had been doing that night. Remembering when she thought she had seen Powell, she wondered if they really _had_ been spying on her. But she didn't voice her thoughts aloud as Ian began driving again, her eyes on Jasper until he was out of sight.

**A/N**: There, that was nice and long for you. I hope you liked it! I personally really like this beginning, even more than "The Forgotten Heir." Even though it's kind of a peaceful time and nothing's really happening yet, there is a slightly darker feel to it. I don't know, that's just what I think. But I really do hope you like it! It's not dark or anything too much yet, but believe me, it will be! Thanks for reading! Your reviews are much appreciated. Thank you!


	3. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer**: Nope, nothing's mine! Just Clara, Nick, and Jasper thus far. If you saw from the pictures on my profile, there will be one more main one.

**A/N**: Hey, happy Friday! I'm glad that everyone seemed to love the first actual chapter of this story! It's so great to hear. It does introduce the darker feel, but everything just gets darker from here on out. Thank you so much to **Halo**, **broadwaylover07**, **Spellinggirl**, **Receneck**, **LupinandHarry**, **Thuraya Known**, **kutlessgirl**, **LoremIpsum**, **momiji'sunusedhalo**, **Monkeyshooter07**, and **Miss Fenway** (I actually have a question for you, so I'll probably send you a PM) for your wonderful reviews! They're greatly inspiring! The good news is, this chapter will be almost as long as the first, so there's plenty to enjoy. Thanks again, everyone, and enjoy!

_Chapter 2_

Clara found herself standing alone in the empty sanctuary of a seemingly ancient church. It was beautiful with its ornate stained-glass window and decorated alter, but she was still terrified as she looked around the vast, empty room that was only lit by the moonlight filtering in from outside.

Then, her eyes landed on a hand mirror lying on the stone floor a few feet away from her. Clara slowly walked toward it and cautiously reached down to pick it up. It was elaborate in craft- a beautiful silver frame with complicated carved patterns. She stared at her terrified reflection for a moment, seeing the pale tint to her face and the dark rings beneath her eyes from lack of sleep. What was happening to her?

Suddenly, she gasped when she saw someone else's face in the mirror besides her own. It was a man with handsome features but an incredibly pale countenance, almost unnaturally so. His midnight hair fell to his shoulders in layers, and his black, lifeless eyes stood out like burning coals against his skin. Clara found that she couldn't tear her eyes away from him, not matter how much she wanted to. This man frightened her, yet at the same time, he entranced her.

_"Hello, Clara…"_

The man's voice was exactly what she had imagined it to be as it echoed in her mind, soft as velvet but as dark as the moonless night. Clara felt drawn to him as a smirk appeared on his face, and she felt something pulling at the edge of her consciousness that brought her closer and closer to this strange man.

Suddenly, she heard the sound of shattering glass and screamed loudly as she felt an indescribable pain, the broken mirror falling from her limp hand as she collapsed to the hard ground…

* * *

Clara gasped as she quickly sat up in her bed, her breathing hard as she looked around her. The darkness of the room scared her since she couldn't see anything, and she couldn't get the image of the strange man in the mirror out of her mind. The fifteen-year-old pushed her heavy covers aside and carefully stood up to blindly make her way to the light switch on the wall across the room from her.

But then, the leg of her pajama pants caught on something sharp, and she let out a startled yelp as she fell to the floor and hit her foot on something hard. "Ow…" Clara muttered from where she lay, sighing quietly to herself.

Then, she heard movement from the room next to hers, and the door to the bedroom opened as the light turned on, flooding her once dark room with brightness. Clara gasped in surprise and covered her eyes to block out the sudden light, not even bothering to see who had entered, for she knew who it was.

"Clara, what in the world is going on in here? It's three in the morning."

The fifteen-year-old lowered her hands and turned to look at the door, blinking as she saw that Ben was standing in the doorway with a bewildered yet exhausted expression while Abigail stood behind him with a similar expression on her face. Her father had been the one who had spoken.

"Sorry if I woke you, Daddy," Clara muttered, sitting up and seeing that her pant leg had caught on the metal edge of her bed. "I just fell trying to get to the light switch."

Before Ben could ask why she wanted to reach the light switch, Abigail's eyes lit up in alarm. "Clara, your foot is bleeding!"

"It is?" Clara looked down at her foot and saw that there truly was blood slowly coming from the spot where she had hit it against the bed frame.

"Come on. Let's get you cleaned up, sweetie," Abigail said as she entered the room. Ben followed her, and they both helped Clara stand up on one foot so she wouldn't get blood on the carpet and led her into the bathroom, setting her down on the edge of the bathtub. Abigail began running the water to warm it up as she rinsed the bottom of her daughter's foot and applied some soap to clean it. "Ben, can you get the wrapping bandages and the antibiotics, please?"

Ben wordlessly went to their medicine cabinet, mindlessly grabbing what his wife had asked for. As he closed it again and looked at his daughter as he handed Abigail the medical supplies, he couldn't help but think about how much his passion of treasure hunting was depriving him of spending time with is family. Clara was already fifteen years old and in her second year of high school, and in three short years, she would be eighteen. She would have a boyfriend and would be going off to college. And if he was always on some crazy treasure hunt, he would miss all of the quality moments that he could be spending with her, time that he could never fully get back.

Not to mention that whenever he and his family went on a hunt, someone he loved always got hurt. Riley had almost died on their last one in Russia, and Nick the time before that in St. Joseph, and he didn't want to risk the life of anyone he loved again.

That was when he made his decision.

"There you go," Abigail announced when she was finished wrapping Clara's foot. "You're good to go."

"Thanks, Mom," Clara replied with a smile, getting to her feet to test her injury. It hurt a little to apply pressure to it like she had expected it to, but it wasn't anything unbearable.

"So, what happened tonight, Clara?" Ben asked from where he was leaning against the sink. "You mentioned that you were trying to get to your light switch?"

"Oh, that." Clara steadied herself against the wall before looking over at her dad. "I had a strange nightmare, but it's nothing to worry about. I just wanted some light, that's all. It wasn't an easy dream to shake off."

Ben nodded, but he wasn't convinced. He could tell that the fifteen-year-old was still affected by the nightmare she had had judging by the pale tint to her face, but he wasn't going to push her if she didn't want to talk. But then, a small smile played across his face. "You're not going to have me call your Uncle Ian at three in the morning again, are you?" he teased.

Clara felt color rise in her cheeks. "That was only once, Daddy, and I was little," she protested. "Besides, that movie was scary, and talking to Uncle Ian helped."

"Actually, it was twice," Ben corrected, his eyes gleaming. "And it was only _Nightmare Before Christmas_."

"Once, twice, what difference does it make?" Clara said in exasperation. "And that movie is scary to a little kid! You knew that I was most likely going to have nightmares."

Ben laughed as he ruffled his daughter's light blonde hair. "I know. But I'm just making sure that I don't have to call Ian again."

Clara crossed her arms and pretended to pout. "No. You don't."

"All right, Clara. You know that I'm just giving you a hard time."

But the more she thought about her father's joking, the more Clara realized that she actually felt that talking to Ian would help a lot. Even though the dream she had wasn't scary like being kidnapped by a skeleton and dragged into a tree to be pulled down into Halloween Town, it was scary in the sense that she didn't understand it. The church, the mirror, the man- it was just so confusion and didn't make any sense to her.

Though the thought of talking to her uncle about her strange nightmare seemed appealing, Clara bravely decided that she wouldn't call him at such a late hour. The last time she had done that was when she was nine years old, and she knew that she was just too old to do that now.

"You look exhausted, Clara," Abigail commented with worry as she approached her. "Come on, let's get you back to bed."

Clara leaned on her mother gratefully as Abigail brought her back to her room and sat her back down on the bed. "Don't hesitate to get us if you need us, sweetheart," she told her daughter before kissing her cheek. "I love you."

"I love you too, Mom."

She watched as Abigail smiled and left the room, still leaving Ben behind in the room with the fifteen-year-old. Clara looked up at him curiously, able to tell that there was something on his mind. "Are you all right, Daddy?" she asked.

Ben was brought out of his reverie by her sudden question. "Huh? Oh, yeah, I'm fine, Clara. We'll talk more in the morning, okay?" he answered, though it really wasn't an answer. He approached the bed in two long strides and kissed his daughter on top of the head. "I love you, Clara. Sweet dreams."

"Love you too, Daddy." Clara watched as Ben walked to her still open doorway, turning off the light before closing the door behind him. She sighed to herself, lying back against her pillow as she covered herself up with her heavy blankets to shield her from the chilly air. Her eyes then landed on her cell phone that was sitting on her dresser being charged, willing that for some reason, her Uncle Ian would feel the need to call it. The last thought on her mind was that she couldn't wait to see him and the rest of her family at the play the next night as her eyes closed and she slipped back into sleep.

* * *

Ben sighed as he closed the door to his and Abigail's shared room behind him and collapsed on to the bed beside his wife. She looked over her shoulder as he covered himself up again, and then she turned completely over to face him once he was situated after he turned off the lamp beside their bed. "What's on your mind, Ben?" she asked quietly, only able to see his shadowed outline in the darkness of the room. "And don't tell me there isn't because I can tell that there is."

How did she always know? Ben wrapped his arm around her as he made his pillow more comfortable beneath his head before deciding to answer. "I'm just thinking about Clara," he finally muttered. "She's growing up so fast, and soon, she's going to be moving away to college. If I'm off on treasure hunts a lot of the time, that's time with Clara and with you that I'm never going to be able to get back- time that we won't be able to spend as a family."

Abigail blinked in confusion. "Where is this going, Ben?"

"I'm not going to do it anymore, Abigail," Ben nearly whispered, the words almost painful as they broke through his lips since he had planned on devoting his whole life to his passion. It was a great sacrifice, but it was one that he was willing to make, one that he _had_ to make. "I'm through. I'm tired of putting everyone else's lives in danger, and I want to spend time with you and Clara before that time is gone."

His wife moved closer to him at these words, sighing as she did so since she was able to feel his pain. "Does this mean our lives will be returning to normal?" she ventured to wonder.

Ben's arms tightened around her, a slight pain in his heart due to the next words he was about to say. "Yes. I promise you, Abigail, no more treasure hunts. My life is now devoted to my family." Even though he was giving up his passion of searching for hidden treasures of great value that could make an immense impact on the world, he at least would now be able to spend time with his own personal treasure that was more valuable to him than any amount of gold could offer.

"You know what this also means, don't you?" Abigail said in a somewhat teasing way, seeming to be very pleased at his decision as she kissed him on the cheek. "We'll have to find you a new occupation."

* * *

Clara sighed to herself as one of the senior girls in charge of costume and makeup pulled her now light brown hair into a loose ponytail held back by a blue ribbon to finish off her costume. As she looked at her reflection in the mirror, she found that she couldn't forget about the discussion that she and her father had had before Jasper's grandmother had picked her up a little before lunch…

_"But Daddy! You love treasure hunting! Why would you give up something you're so passionate about?"_

"_I just think that it's time I move on with my life, Clara," Ben had told her, pulling her to his side in a one-armed hug. "Besides, you're growing up now, and soon you'll be on your way to college. I would like to spend as much quality time with you as I can before that happens, and I can't do that if we're always off on some dangerous treasure hunt."_

Clara knew how painful it was for her dad to give up something that he loved so much, and she knew that it wasn't only for the reason that he had told her. It had to be something besides wanting to spend more time with her. She then coughed a little when the final layer of powdery makeup was applied to her face. Though Clara really hadn't thought of it before, she now began to realize that the passion of hunting for hidden treasures was hereditary, for she had loved going with her father on many smaller-scale hunts around the area after the time in St. Petersburg. If Benjamin Gates wasn't going to continue the legacy, then she decided at that moment that Clara Gates would follow in his footsteps. After she finished college, she would continue the legacy of the Gates family and search for legendary treasures that her father hadn't yet found.

"There you go," the senior girl said once she was finished touching up Clara's hair, makeup, and costume. "You're all set and on in ten. Break a leg!"

"Okay, thanks," Clara replied, watching as she disappeared into the mass of other actors and extras. For the first time since she had auditioned for the play, she felt nervous. She had been in a couple of plays before when she was in middle school, but never before had she played the leading role. It was a scary thought for her, and she only hoped that she could pull it off well in front of her family.

"How is your foot feeling?"

Clara turned around and saw that Jasper had materialized out of the crowd of people and was coming towards her. She blushed slightly, finding that the red shirt he wore looked great on him, and she really liked the small ponytail his black hair had been pulled back to form. "It's feeling somewhat better," she answered him, looking down at the pair of black heels she wore. She didn't want to tell him that it felt uncomfortable in the tighter shoe since she didn't want him to worry, especially since it was something that she could manage.

Jasper smiled slightly. He had noticed immediately that Clara had a slight limp when his grandmother had brought her to their home, and he had gently teased her that she was still being as clumsy as ever. He had witnessed first hand ungraceful she could be, watching her trip many times during their rehearsals for the play. "That's good. I'm glad to hear that."

"Yeah, it wouldn't be a good thing to have a serious injury on opening night," Clara muttered with a slight laugh.

"No, it wouldn't," Jasper agreed quietly as he stopped in front of her. Then, he sighed almost nervously. "Clara, I have something that I want to ask you."

Clara looked back at him curiously, able to detect the seriousness of his tone. "What is it, Jasper?"

Jasper slowly raised his gaze to greet hers. "Clara, you are the most… interesting girl that I have ever met," he admitted, his accent thickening a little like it did whenever there was emotion behind his words. "Definitely one of a kind. And after being with you during the summer for rehearsals, taking you to the dance last night, and spending the day with you today, I realize that I care about you a lot. When I'm with you, I feel truly happy. Somehow, you are always on my mind, and I was wondering if… if you would want to be my girlfriend."

Her heart nearly stopped when she heard his last statement. Clara could feel her eyes beginning to tear up, but she held them back since her makeup would be smudged if they were released. She couldn't believe what she was hearing! Jasper was completely full of surprises, especially since she had no idea that he felt the same way about her that she felt about him. After a minute of stunned silence, she nodded to show him her answer in case her voice failed her. "Yes," she whispered once she was completely rid of her tears. "Yes, Jasper, I would love to."

She had never seen his eyes light up so much, and Clara leaned forward and hugged him tightly. By the way he embraced her in return, Jasper was as pleased as she was, maybe even a little relieved.

"Well, isn't this a sight to see? Changed your taste in men, did ya', Belle?"

Clara and Jasper reluctantly pulled apart and watched as their drama teacher, Mr. David, came walking toward them. "You're on in three," he continued, placing one hand on both of their arms. "Come on, you two, into positions. And don't go changing the plot of the play, all right? Wait until after."

Jasper gave Clara a reassuring smile as he gently squeezed her hand before they were led in two different directions since their entrances were on different sides of the stage. As she listened to the narrator tell the audience of the story of how the selfish prince became the Beast, her courage to face the play grew along with her ecstasy of the moment. Nothing could ruin her night after what just happened. And when the curtains were slowly pulled aside and the music was played that cued her entrance, Clara strode on to the stage with a new source of determination in her step.

* * *

"Clara, you were incredible, honey!" Abigail exclaimed happily, hugging her daughter tightly.

"Excellent job, Clara," Ben added with a broad, proud smile as he hugged her also.

"Thank you, Mom. Daddy," Clara replied with a bright smile of her own. It only grew when she saw that she still had to greet her five uncles. It was a couple of hours later, and now she and the rest of the cast were standing in the main hallway of their school to greet the audience.

Jasper, who was standing beside her and shaking people's hands, cast a knowing smile in Ben and Abigail's direction. "I told you that you wouldn't be disappointed." He saw Clara blush out of the corner of his eye before she posed for a picture with a young girl.

"I didn't know that you could sing so well, Clara," Riley commented as he pulled his niece into a tight embrace when he reached her. "I mean, I knew you could sing, but not like that!"

The comment made Clara's face burn again as she incoherently mumbled her thanks.

"_I_ knew she could," Ian told him as he hugged and kissed Clara on top of her now brown head, giving her a knowing wink once he let her go. Clara smiled in return as she quickly hugged Nick, Powell, and Phil. She knew that Ian had been there for every one of her rehearsals, watching her from a hidden spot that probably no one else in the school knew about. And yet somehow, she knew just where to look for him if she ever felt stressed or needed encouragement.

Then, her eyes widened in surprise when she saw someone else in the line that she recognized as he approached her. "Jacob!" she exclaimed, hugging her best friend tightly. "I can't believe you came!"

"I wouldn't miss it for the world," the now twenty-three-year-old Jacob Sadusky replied, smiling down at her. "I must say that you did a fantastic job out there tonight. You look very different with your hair brown, though."

Clara smiled in return. "Well, you look strange with your small goatee you're starting there," she teased with a laugh. "Just kidding, it looks nice on you. Are you the only one here tonight?"

Jacob nodded. "Yeah. Mom and Dad are planning on coming to tomorrow night's performance, and Matt and his wife Rebecca are hoping they can make it on one of the two days next weekend," he said. "They really want to come and see you perform, it's just that they've all been so busy lately. Oh, speaking of my dad, do you mind if he stops over at your place around noon tomorrow?"

"No, of course not. He's always welcome at the house," Clara told him. "I think my Uncle Riley will be over around then too. Why, what's the occasion?"

The younger Sadusky winked as he grinned. "It's a surprise."

Clara smiled at that, watching as Jacob moved to talk to Ben so that other people could congratulate her on her wonderful performance, hearing as he began to tell her father about his new job designing security systems on the computer for the government before she began to shake more hands.

But then, when the line began to slow, she saw Ian standing by himself behind the rest of her family, and she quickly walked over to join him. "Uncle Ian, can I talk to you about something?" she asked, not returning the smile he gave her when she approached. She didn't know what made her change her mind about talking to him about this issue, but it just kind of slipped out before she could stop it.

"Of course, Clara. You can talk to me about anything," Ian answered, hearing the serious tone of her voice. "What is it?"

Clara sighed. "Do you remember when I was younger and called you twice at about three in the morning to tell you about a nightmare I had?" When he nodded, she decided to continue on. There was no stopping the conversation now. "Well, I had a very strange nightmare last night that really shook me up, and I accidentally woke both of my parents up at three, and I felt like calling you like I did when I was younger. But I didn't because I know I'm too old to do that now…"

Ian smiled and pulled his niece to him tightly. "You're never too old to call me if you need me for anything, luv," he told her. "I don't care what time it is or what it is you need, just call me."

"Thanks, Uncle Ian," Clara muttered, smiling in the comfort of her uncle's arms. "I'm holding you to your word, so I'll call you next time."

"You had better," Ian stated with a slight laugh. "Now, do you want to tell me what your nightmare was about that shook you up so bad?"

Before Clara could answer, she felt something vibrating from the pocket of his leather jacket. Ian released her and reached into his pocket to pull out his cell phone, checking the number. His gaze hardened when he recognized it. "Sorry, Clara, but I have to take this call," he said "I'll be right back, and then you can tell me about it, all right?"

Clara nodded, and Ian quickly slipped away from the group and hurried out the door into the cool night air. He flipped his cell phone open and brought it to his ear, hoping that he hadn't been too late to answer it. "Hello?"

_"Oh, good. I'm glad you answered, Ian,"_ a deep English accent said, and the blond man was relieved to hear that he hadn't missed the call. _"Listen, I need you to come home as soon as you can. I have something important here that I think you would like to see."_

**A/N**: Okay, a bit of a cliffie there and a bit of a kinda creepy beginning. Who's calling? Well, you'll find out. And aren't Clara and Jasper sweet? Yay, Clara's one happy girl now. And just for fun, what new occupation can you see Ben in? Personally, I think it would be hilarious if he was a greeter at Wal-Mart. "Hello, welcome to Wal-Mart, can I interest you in rugs with secret stitching?" Hehehe. Leave your ideas in your reviews if you could. I hope you enjoyed! Thanks for reading! Your reviews are much appreciated. Thank you!


	4. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer**: Nope, nothing is mine!

**A/N**: Hey! I'm back with another quick update so that I can get it on before I delve back into another busy week of school. And the question has been raised about why Ian and Clara are so close. Well, if you remember in the second one, he was the one that was there when she had the terrible nightmare, and also he saved her life from the Russian men a lot. Plus, the passage of time does a lot. Also, if you guys are interested, once this story is done, I'm thinking of doing some oneshots that take place during the time gaps between the three major stories, so that'll hopefully clear up a lot. This chapter is actually longer than the others, but it's also more Ian-centric. So, that should be interesting. Also, you guys have mentioned before that you like the family themes running through this story. Well, there's about to be another one introduced in this chapter, so I think you'll like it. Anyway, thanks to **Thuraya Known**, **LupinandHarry**, **kutlessgirl90**, **Jedi'Pirate Jaeh**, **daisyduke80**, **broadwaylover07**, **LoremIpsum**, **Miss Fenway** (thank you again!), and **Receneck** for your awesome reviews. Enjoy the next chapter!

_Chapter 3_

"You're going to England?" Clara asked as she took a bite of her cookie dough ice cream. "Why?"

The reception after the play was finally over, and Clara, along with her parents, uncles, and Jasper, were seated in the best ice cream parlor in the D.C. area to have a treat to celebrate the success of opening night.

"It's just that I have something to take care of back at home, that's all. Not a big deal. I'll be leaving tonight," Ian answered her, eating another spoonful of his mint chocolate chip ice cream. "I'll probably only spend a couple of days there at the most, and then I'll be back. You'll barely even miss me."

Nick glanced up at him at the mention of the word "home." It was strange to hear the foreign country to be addressed as "home" since they had lived in the United States for so many years, but Ian's home truly was in England. "I'll go with you if you want, Ian, so you don't have to travel alone," he offered casually.

"No, that's okay, Nick. I think I'm just going to go by myself this time," Ian told him. He was the surprise on his stepbrother's face, and he admitted that even he himself was shocked that he had declined the offer. Normally, he would have appreciated Nick's company on the trip, especially since he wasn't doing anything dangerous or illegal. So, why _had_ he declined? Though he hadn't voiced the thought aloud, all he was going to do was go see what his father wanted to show him in England. There was no danger there.

But then, Ian realized that it could have something to do with the fact that Nick and his father had never been that close. Granted they were never enemies, but even when Nick's mother was still alive, Richard had never really seemed to care about Nick or what he did with his time. Ian knew that before Nick had joined the family, he and his father were really close. He would follow in Richard's footsteps, almost like his shadow. But when Nick came into the picture, Ian's attention slowly began to move away from his father to the younger boy, and at the same time, he became more of an independent thinker and broke away from what Richard wanted him to think and act like. Soon, Ian and Nick became inseparable as the younger followed in the older's shadow, and ever since that point, Nick had felt uncomfortable around Richard since the man always seemed to look at him with a speculating eye. It wasn't that Richard was ever mean to him or hurt him, but there was always a tension between them.

The tension grew after Ian had moved out of the house and Nick's mother, Richard's second wife, had died. This only left Richard and Nick in the house together, but the man was still never mean to the teenager. In fact, he almost completely ignored him, virtually only giving him food when it was time, and otherwise didn't care what the young man did. The tension built up so much for Nick that he simply ran away, calling Ian to let him know what he was doing. Fortunately, his stepbrother hadn't left for the States yet, and he allowed Nick to stay in the apartment he shared with his best friend Shaw for the night. He had asked if Richard knew where Nick was, and when the teenager told him that he didn't and he wasn't planning on returning to the house, Ian reluctantly called his father to let him know that his stepbrother was safe.

Richard had only been somewhat angry, if not only frustrated at the inconvenience, about Nick running away, stating that "the selfish kid didn't know any better." Ian defended Nick and told his father that he would take him in, hoping that the man didn't mind living in their large house by himself. Richard didn't seem to care. In fact, he didn't seem to care about anything when he told Ian to "do whatever he wanted to do" before hanging up. It hadn't really been an argument between them since he and Richard still kept in close contact, but when Ian brought Nick back to the house to get his belongings, Shaw bringing his car also so they could make less trips, he made sure that they went at a time where his father wasn't home. After some thought, Ian decided that the reason he was going to make the trip to England alone was a safety measure in case there was still some tension between Nick and Richard, not to mention that he sensed that hit was more of a private thing between only him and his dad.

"It's not a big deal," Ian repeated, his comment mainly directed toward Nick. "I'll be back in a couple of days." He watched as his stepbrother nodded, but he also noticed that the younger man was still somewhat suspicious.

"Okay," Nick finally muttered. "Just make sure you give me a call when you get there so I know that you made it safely."

"I will." _"__Before I go see my father,"_ Ian added silently to himself.

Clara then failed to suppress a yawn, even though it was only a little after seven, as she leaned against Jasper's arm, which had been around her but resting on the wooden bench behind her. "Tired?" he asked with a small smile as he watched her close her eyes.

"Yeah," Clara mumbled in answer, scooting a little closer to Jasper so she could make herself more comfortable on his shoulder. "It's been a long couple of days."

Ben watched his daughter and her new boyfriend with a small sparkle in his eye, Abigail smiling as she looked at them while Riley eyed Jasper closely. Nick merely finished his ice cream in silence while Phil and Powell laughed together about some private joke that had passed between them.

"Maybe it's time we get you home, Clara," the treasure hunter stated. "Both you and Jasper need your rest. Don't worry. You'll see him again tomorrow night for the next performance."

Clara blushed slightly that her father had to assure her of this, but she opened her eyes as she straightened up and looked at Jasper. "Thanks for coming out with us for ice cream tonight, Jasper," she said. "It was fun."

Jasper smiled in return. "Thank you for bringing me," he replied. Then, he kissed her blonde head. "I'll see you tomorrow. Have a good night's sleep."

"You too." Clara watched as he got to his feet and took out his cell phone to call his grandmother to let her know that she should come to pick him up, but Ian stood up also and stopped him.

"I'll bring you home, Jasper," the English man offered. "Just tell me your address, and we'll drop you off. Then I guess I'm going to pack a little and head to the airport…"

Jasper seemed genuinely surprised by the offer, as did Clara, but he was able to give him a smile and a quick thanks. Ian nodded as he returned the smile, but Clara noticed that Powell and Phil were watching the junior boy very carefully. She instantly realized that now since things were official between her and Jasper, her uncles would want to keep an extra eye on him. This theory was only proved when Powell and Phil joined Ian and Jasper and tried to look as intimidating as possible but also as discreetly as possible as Nick joined them also. Thankfully, Clara was the only one who noticed, and she stood up to give her uncles hugs before they left.

"Good night, kiddo, you were wonderful tonight."

"Great job, sweetheart. I really enjoyed it."

"Awesome job. Love you, cutie."

"You were wonderful, luv. I regret that I won't be able to come tomorrow night, but I'll see you soon, all right?"

Clara held on to Ian for a couple of moments longer than her other uncles, knowing that she wasn't going to see him for some time. The English man then kissed her on top of the head before rubbing her back a little. "I'll call you as soon as I get back from England, all right? Love you."

"All right. Love you too, Uncle Ian. Love you all." Then, after she was done saying goodbye to her uncles, she hugged Jasper tightly, who returned it.

"See you tomorrow," he said before kissing her cheek and releasing her.

"See you tomorrow," Clara agreed with a broad smile. Then, she sighed, watching as he followed Ian and Nick outside with Powell and Phil towering menacingly behind him. She looked over her shoulder when she felt an arm come around her, and she saw her father standing beside her. Riley and Abigail were still at the table they had previously been sitting at, heatedly arguing over who was going to pay their part of the bill since Ian had already left his part of the money with them.

"So, Daddy. Do you approve?" Clara asked quietly, knowing that he would know what she meant.

Ben smiled as he tightened his arm around her, kissing her head. "Yes, Clara. I approve of him."

* * *

After leaving about a quarter after nine that night for his all-night flight, Ian arrived in England at approximately noon the next afternoon. As he waited outside of the airport for the taxi he had ordered, he called Nick to let him know that he had gotten to his destination safely. His younger stepbrother sounded relieved to and asked yet again if there was anything that he could do, but once again, Ian told him that there wasn't. Then, after assuring him that he would be home in a couple of days, he ended the call and put his cell phone back into his pocket just as his taxi pulled up. He tossed his backpack into the backseat before climbing in himself and telling the driver where to go, finally beginning the drive to his final destination.

His nerves grew as Ian drew nearer and nearer to his father's house, the home that he had grown up in. He hadn't seen the man in years, and over that period of time, they had only kept in touch through phone conversations. He couldn't help but wonder what was so important that he had to see his father in person about it as the taxi slowed to a stop in front of a giant mansion with a high, black iron fence surrounding its massive gardens. Ian stepped out and grabbed his backpack before he supplied the driver with the fee and a decent tip, and he suddenly felt very alone as he found himself facing the house after the man drove away.

Pushing all anxieties aside, Ian stepped forward and pushed open the heavy iron gate, its hinges noisily grinding together, before closing it again behind him. The English man's eyes traveled over the vast, lush lawn rich with fruit-bearing trees and bushes and beautiful flowered plants- the same lawn that he had played on many times when he was a child. Nothing seemed to have changed from all of those years ago…

As he began to walk down the winding, cobblestone path that led up to the large house, Ian remembered the time he had fallen on the very same stones that were beneath his feet and scraped his knee. His father had been the one who picked him back up, and the young boy had known that everything would be all right as long as he was there.

Then, he paused suddenly when he saw the looming weeping willow tree with its long branches draping over the far corner of the house. Ian sighed, remembering bitter sweetly how his mother would take him to that same tree and sit at he base of the trunk, surrounded by all of those branches, to tell him stories. Her imagination had been a vivid one, and he could still feel how he had relished the tales she told of other worlds with mystical beings far more interesting than their own. Another sigh escaped from him as Ian continued walking. His mother had been a wonderful woman, far greater than words could even express, and all memories of her ended up being painful for him.

Ian finally made it to the house, and he froze before he rang the doorbell. It had been years since he had seen his father. Could he bring himself to face him again, especially if was this nervous? Of course he could. He had nothing against his father, and his father didn't have anything against him. They were still close, as close as two people could be through mere phone conversations, so there was nothing to be worried about. With this thought in mind, Ian took a deep breath and rang the bell, hearing the sound echo all around the large house.

Not even a minute later, the door opened, and the blond English man was greeted by an older man with graying hair and a strict face. Ian recognized Gerald, the family butler since he had been a young boy, immediately. "Good afternoon, Master Ian," the man said in a heavy monotone accent. "Master Richard has been expecting you. Come on in."

Ian walked through the door that Gerald held open for him, and he looked around the vast entry hall that he hadn't seen since he had moved out years and years before. It was still as decorative as it had been when he lived there, and nothing seemed to be out of place.

But then, his eyes landed on the tall set of ornate double doors on the far wall, and a cold chill ran through him as his memories from the night of the masquerade came back to him…

_Masked dancers swirling around him in a dark room…_

_His father in a vampire-featured mask dancing with his mother…_

_His father slowly reaching up to remove his mask…_

_"Well, Son. That's the point of a masquerade, to hide your true self from the world…"_

"Allow me to take your bag up to your old room, Sir," Gerald suddenly muttered, bringing Ian out of his reverie. "It has been prepared for your stay."

Ian handed his backpack to the butler with a slight smirk, wondering if his old bed would still fit him since it had been so large. It was a funny thought, anyway.

"Come with me, Master Ian, and I will bring you to Master Richard before I drop off your bag." Gerald then turned around and began walking up the winding, stone staircase without another word, and Ian followed closely after him. When they reached the top, the butler led him down to the end of the hall where another set of less-intricate double doors lay that the blond man also knew well. This was his father's study. Gerald promptly knocked three times on the door before entering, but Ian hung back a little, not entering the study with the butler. But when he heard him say, "Master Ian has arrived, Sir," he knew that he had no choice now and walked into the room.

"Ah, Ian! It's so great to see you again, Son!"

Ian smiled as he watched a man with gray hair stand up at the desk that he had previously been seated at and began walking toward him with the same powerful, determined stride that he was so accustomed to. This was his father- the man that he had admired since he was a child, the man who cared for him and put his whole heart into him, the man that had always been simply but lovingly, "Daddy." He obviously appeared much older than the last time he had seen him, but there was hardly a falter to his now slower step, and his dark eyes were still as wise and calculating as they had been years ago. Ian had to admit that it was great seeing him again also.

"Hello, Father," he greeted when Richard reached him and placed his wrinkled hand on his shoulder.

Richard smiled back at him, but then turned to face the butler. "That will be all for now, Gerald," he told him. "Please bring the bag to his room."

"Yes, Sir."

Ian watched Gerald leave the room and shut the door behind him before turning his attention back to his father's study. His eyes moved over the multiple wooden shelves filled with probably hundreds of books and artifacts scattered about the room, and he clearly remembered the many times he had sat with his father behind the same wooden desk while he read one of his volumes of classic literature or looked over some ancient manuscript. But then, the fond memory was replaced with the one where he and Shaw had snuck into this same room and stole a precious item from his father during his older, more rebellious teenage phase…

"It's strange to be back here," Ian stated, trying to forget about the last memory with Shaw. He wasn't back home to remember his worst experiences in the house.

"I bet," Richard said, lifting his hand from Ian's shoulder before turning around and walking back toward his wooden desk. "But it is good to have you back home, no matter how short your stay is. It must be strange for you, though, since you haven't been here for years and yet nothing has changed."

"Yeah." But then, a small smirk appeared on his face. "Well, except the fact that there are more books on your shelves, if that's even possible."

"Well, yes, of course that." Richard laughed a little, sitting back down in his chair before taking out a cigarette and lighting it. Ian wrinkled his nose slightly. Clearly, that habit hadn't changed either… "Well, I suppose you're wondering why I asked you to come here."

His father's sudden statement startled Ian slight, but he still nodded. "Yeah, actually," he said. "We normally just talk over the phone. But what I do know is that because I'm here, I'm going to miss the second performance of my niece's play."

The shock was clearly visible on Richard's face. "Your niece?" he asked. "Don't get me wrong, there isn't anything wrong with that, but I just didn't think that Nick would be getting married and having a child before you…"

Ian laughed a little at the misunderstanding. "No, she's not Nick's daughter. She's actually the daughter of a good friend of mine, and I just consider her to be my niece. But what did you want to show me? You said it was important?"

"Oh." Ian could tell that Richard was still confused, but he brushed it off by taking a puff of his cigarette. "Well, anyway, I guess we should just get down to business. You know how I spent the last two months in Transylvania? Well, I found something very interesting there that I think you should take a look at." He shut the older, more delicate book that he had previously been looking at and handed it to Ian.

Ian carefully opened the worn, brown, leather cover and gently flipped through the pages, seeing that the words that had been written in it were in English. "What is it?" he asked, looking up at the older man.

"This is the journal of one of our great ancestors who went to Transylvania regularly to try to make negotiations with Count Dracula to end the dreadful battle raging in Europe," Richard answered him.

"Dracula?" Ian's face paled slightly at the mention of the name, remembering the night he had found his father at the masquerade…

_"But why would you pretend to be an evil monster like Dracula?" _

_"Even Count Dracula was once a gentleman…" _

"Yes," Richard confirmed, once again bringing Ian out of his thoughts. "Dracula was taking over surrounding territories, not to mention torturing his prisoners in horrifying ways, and our ancestor was sent from England to have a few meetings with him to see if he could end the violent struggle before it spread too far.

"Now, the strange thing about this journal is that it ends abruptly during his final meeting with Dracula. It's not complete, which leads me to believe that something happened to him, most likely by Dracula's hand."

Ian was starting to feel slightly uncomfortable with all of this information, and he shifted his feet a little. He would have much preferred to have this conversation over the phone. "All right, so you found an incomplete journal, and you don't know what happened with the conflict with Dracula. What does that have to do with me?" he muttered. "Why did I have to come all the way here just so you could show me that?"

"I'm glad you asked," Richard replied, taking the journal back from him. "I was actually wondering if you could help me."

"Help you?" Ian frowned. "How can I help you? I don't even know what you're planning on doing."

Richard slowly shook his head, a small grin appearing on his face. "I would get to that if you just let me finish," he said. "You've been on treasure hunts before, Ian. I'm sure that you can figure out how you would be of use."

Ian sighed, still feeling apprehensive. "All right," he told him. "I'll listen to what you have in mind, but I'm not going to make any promises until I know for sure what's going on."

An almost triumphant light seemed to appear in Richard's eyes as he opened the journal to a page that he had marked with a thin ribbon. "This is the one page that I found the most interesting after reading it. It describes a legend about Count Dracula, one that was never fully divulged," he explained. "Are you ready?" When Ian nodded, he continued, "You know the of the vampire legend that derives from him, and this is going deeper into that. It says here that Dracula, the man who was said to be a vampire, owned a hand mirror that is said to contain the souls of all of the prisoners that he mercilessly tortured and killed. "But to end up in the mirror, a person had to be slain with a certain dagger held by the hand of a vampire." Richard paused, glancing up at his son. "You remember that dagger that I won at an auction when you were in your tenth year of school, don't you, Ian? The one with the emerald handle?"

Ian nodded in silent answer, but inside, he felt a knot beginning to form in his stomach. The dagger that his father was speaking of was the priceless, highly-guarded item that he and Shaw had successfully stolen from his dad to test their abilities. He had a feeling that Richard knew that they had been the ones to steal it, but never once had he confronted them about it…

"Well, I've been holding on to it in case it would be useful one day," Richard muttered off-handedly. "It turns out that I was right. It belongs in a pair of objects, so I need it to complete it."

The knot that had been beginning to form in Ian's stomach suddenly tightened as he inwardly cringed. His father couldn't have the dagger in his possession, could he? He and Shaw had kept it on them for good luck if they ever pulled a job. It still had to be in one of their secure locations. But then, he realized that they had put the dagger aside someplace when they had moved to America. Ian hadn't seen the ornate weapon in a long time, even when Shaw was still alive, and there were plenty of opportunities where Richard could have come and taken it without either he or Shaw noticing. He knew what his father was capable of, especially since he had learned a lot of what he knew about methods of questionable legality from him. He realized with dread that Richard could have come and taken the dagger back without him ever knowing otherwise. Ian had sworn that he still had it somewhere, but he could have been wrong…

"Now, the interesting thing is that these souls will be visible in the mirror when the moon is full and the planets are perfectly aligned. That is when a person can see them, can learn their stories. It would reveal so much about so many forgotten people in history, not to mention who Dracula really was. That mystery would finally be solved.

"Though that may sound wonderful, there is something very dangerous, very deadly, about this treasure. It is written here, _Seek the mirror of victims, but beware the gaze of its master_. The mirror is also said to contain the undead soul of Dracula, restless and anxious to return to the land of the living, and is brought out by the presence of the dagger. If a person finds the mirror and cannot tear their eyes away from Dracula's gaze, their soul will replace his in the mirror and he will once again be free. If a person is able to withstand Dracula's deadly gaze or is able to look away until his soul is replaced with another, then that person will be able to speak to anyone and gain that historical knowledge that I talked about earlier before destroying the mirror so the souls can be at rest. But only if both the mirror and the dagger are destroyed will Dracula's wandering soul finally be put to rest."

Richard's eyes were gleaming with excitement as he closed the journal once more. "And that's how the legend goes," he concluded. "I already have the dagger, so all I need is the mirror. If the legend is true and my speculations are correct, then that's where our ancestor is. Imagine what we could learn…"

Ian stared at his father in disbelief. He knew that he had always had an interest in people in history, especially if it was one of their own ancestors, and figured that he was the main reason that Richard wanted to find that mirror. But this was just completely ridiculous, not to mention dangerous… "Say the legend _is_ true. Do you think that you could actually handle the mirror?" he questioned in an almost demanding tone.

"I do," Richard said confidently with a slight nod. "Our family is a strong one, Ian, and if anyone could handle it, we could." He paused for a short moment before sighing. "But I could really use your help here, Ian."

"No." Ian suddenly became defensive. "No, this is too dangerous. If that legend is true, and I'm not saying that I believe in that superstition, there are too many risks, especially if what it said was true about the dagger and the mirror being brought together will reveal Dracula. Even if it's not true, which is most likely the case, it's still too dangerous. There are just too many risks, too many things we aren't sure of. I just feel very uncomfortable about this."

"Just think about it for a minute, Ian," Richard attempted to persuade him, walking around the desk and waving the worn, leather book in front of him. "This journal can give us every clue we need to find this mirror and prove once and for all who Dracula really was!"

Ian shook his head as he backed away from his advancing father a little. "No," he repeated. "I will not help you. This is something that is out of our control."

Richard, seeming to accept the fact that his son wasn't going to be a part of his plan, turned and set the journal back down on his wooden desk. "Pity," he muttered, his back still to Ian as he put out his cigarette in the ashtray. "You know, good help is hard to find these days, help that you can rely on…"

"What are you getting at?" Ian asked quietly, suddenly feeling very apprehensive.

"I'm just simply stating that good, reliable help is almost impossible to find, that's all," Richard answered, turning to face Ian with a strange expression on his face- one that he had never shown before, and one that couldn't be read. "You know, there was one time years ago where I sent three of my… _hired hands_, per se, to speak with you about a matter I needed to get cleared up while you were still here in England. But, it turns out that you were out of the country at the time, and they ran into Nick instead. Turns out they thought he was you since I told them that they were searching for a blond man at your address…"

Something snapped in the back of Ian's mind then, and he remembered the night he had returned home from his out-of-town business only to find Nick lying beaten on the couch and Shaw sitting up with him, telling him that the younger man had been attacked by three men that he hadn't recognized…

But if what Richard had just said was true, it should have been _him_, not Nick, who was their target. His own _father_ had sent those men after him… What had happened to the kind, caring man that he used to know? He wasn't the same at all…

Then, Ian realized that this was the missing part of the explanation that Nick hadn't told him about that night. His stepbrother had known that the men thought that he was Richard's son, but he had only suffered in silence, taking every hit that was meant for Ian. _"They told me that they were after you…"_ How true that statement actually was now…

"Why the hell would you send men to clear up a matter when you could do it yourself?" Ian demanded heatedly. "Because of their mistake, they almost killed Nick! He was lucky that Shaw found him in time! Did you want them to beat me too?"

"No, of course not, Ian. Of course not. I wouldn't want harm to come to either of you, you know that," Richard told him in an almost soothing way. "I do feel terrible about what happened that night to Nick, and trust me when I say that it was an unfortunate accident. They probably thought that he was you, and when he didn't tell them what they wanted to know, they resorted to different, more desperate, measures. Believe me, I dismissed them immediately when I found out. I didn't want something like that happening again. But if I know Nick, he probably didn't tell them that he really wasn't you either. He would do anything to protect you."

But for some reason, something in the back of Ian's mind told him that even if it had truly been him in that situation years before and not his stepbrother, he would have still been in Nick's condition. "What did you want to clear up with me anyway?"

"You know, it was such a long time ago that it has slipped my mind," Richard said, a strange, unreadable glint in his eye. "But it must have been important if Nick almost died for it."

There was a moment of tense silence between them, and Ian looked away from Richard. He still couldn't believe that his own father had been the one that had sent those men… the one that had been responsible for Nicks' major injuries… the one that had sent those men with intentions of doing that damage to _him_, not his younger stepbrother. It should have been _him_ taking the beating, not Nick…

"I know you've never had that problem with Shaw, and I must say that I envy you."

Ian looked back up at the older man with shock, wondering why he was suddenly bringing up his right hand man… his best friend. When he saw that he had his son's attention, Richard grinned before he continued. "If Shaw was still alive, I would recruit him to help me with this hunt. At least then I would have some decent help..."

"He wouldn't help you either since I'm not going to," Ian told him confidently with a grim smile of his own. "Shaw was more than a henchman to me, even more than my second in command. He was my closest friend, both of us completing the other. A decision wasn't made unless we both agreed to it. I'm not going to help you, and neither would he."

Richard nodded slightly, thinking over the information that he had received. "That may be how you felt about him, Ian…" he muttered thoughtfully. "But how did _he _feel about _you_?"

Ian knew what he waned to say in response to that question, but he realized that he couldn't say it. Even though he was sure that Shaw was his friend, the man that he had met in college and had gone through so much with after that, never once had Shaw actually done anything that showed that he felt the same way towards him. Sure, he had done every order he had ever given him flawlessly and efficiently, but so had everyone else Ian had ever worked with in his lifetime. That didn't mean that there was any deep bond of friendship between them.

Was Shaw just like any other henchman? Ian hadn't thought so, but now, he wasn't so sure anymore. And since what he had been going to say was what he wanted to believe and wasn't sure that it was true, he was a loss for words for the first time he could remember.

"You don't know for sure, do you?" Richard asked quietly, a triumphant gleam in his eye.

Instead of responding, Ian turned without a word and headed for the doors. But once he reached them and placed his hand on the handle, he paused for a second when his father had one last thing to say.

"Be careful, Ian. It's a dangerous dance you're stepping into."

Taking a deep breath and without looking back at the dark look he could feel that his father was giving him, Ian pushed down on the handle and left the study, slamming the door behind him.

**A/N**: Ah, that last part turned out so much longer than I thought it would! But I guess it makes sense since a lot of things were covered, including the legend of the treasure and any unanswered questions about the Shaw flashback in my second story (refer back to it if you need to refresh your memory. It's in chapter 14). But there's the new family theme, and it's been turned into a tense one, kinda like Riley and Dustin were, but on a much broader scale. So, things should be interesting from here on out. Thanks for reading! Your reviews are much appreciated. Thank you!


	5. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer**: Nope, nothing but Richard, Clara, Nick, Jasper, and the cute little new character I'm going to throw in this chapter are mine! Oh, and the idea of course! But nothing from the actual movies is mine.

**A/N**: Hey! Sorry for the long wait, guys. Things have just been really stressful for me lately, leaving no room for writing. And I'm not just talking about school. My older brother just got out of the hospital recently after having a heart attack, and just a lot of other things aren't going well right now. But, here's the chapter! Thank you so much to **kutlessgurl90**, **broadwaylover07**, **Miss Fenway**, **Thuraya Known**, **Spellinggirl**, **Monkeyshooter07**, **Halo**, and **momijis'unusedhalo** for your reviews! They are very helpful, and just seeing them makes my day a little brighter and the stress a little easier to handle. So, thank you all very much. It's also interesting to see that you guys don't really like Ian's dad. Well, I mean the way he is. I mean, yeah, he's a complete jerk and he scares the crap out of me, but I think you'll all find that he's actually a good character to have in the story, especially as an opposing force not to be messed with. But, we'll see! So, enjoy this chapter!

**Note**: This chapter is going to contain some few humorous, light-hearted moments that won't be found in too much of the story after this point. So, savor these ones while you can. Also, the first section is on the same day Ian meets with his dad in England, so I'm backtracking slightly, but then the second section is moving forward in time. That will be the night of the day Ian met with his dad. Just so no one's confused. Also, in the second section, there are some pretty "adult jokes" that started as simple observations, but the characters turned them bad. Just warning you. But anyway, here's the chapter!

_Chapter 4_

The sound of the doorbell echoed around the vast Gates' estate shortly after noon, and Riley looked away from the movie he was watching with Clara toward where the door was. "I'll get it," he muttered, getting to his feet off the couch he was sharing with his niece and entered the large entrance hall. He then unlocked and opened the door, smiling when he saw who was on the other side.

"Hey, Sadusky." But then, his eyes widened when he saw what was in the FBI agent's arms. "_Baby_?!"

Peter Sadusky smiled in response to the techie's exclamation, cradling the young, brown-haired child carefully against his chest as he shifted him slightly into a more comfortable position. "I wanted to introduce you to my grandson," he said, the affection he had for the infant clearly visible in his eyes and tone. "His name is Kyle. I'm watching him for the day since Matthew and his wife Rebecca are both busy at work, and I thought that now would be a good time to show him off."

Riley smiled as he looked down at the sleeping boy. "Well, he's still going to be 'Baby Sadusky' to me," he stated. "How old is he?"

"Almost three months."

"That's a cute age," Riley replied. "Well, come on in. Abi's at work, but Ben and Clara are here. That's okay though. We can take a picture for her to see later. Come on in." He allowed Sadusky and the child to step past him into the house before closing the door behind them. "Ben! Clara! Come see the baby!"

They heard footsteps coming from two different directions, and they watched as Clara ran in from the living room and Ben came down the stairs from where he had been reading upstairs in the study, and they both paused when they saw the baby in their agent friend's arms. The fifteen-year-old was the first to recover, and she hurried toward him to look at the small child while Ben smiled from his spot on the stairs. "New member of the family Sadusky?" he asked.

Sadusky smiled and nodded in answer. "Yep, this is Kyle, Matthew and Rebecca's son, which would make him my grandson," he answered him. "Susanna and I are watching him for the day since both of his parents are so busy. So, I thought I'd come show you guys."

Clara smiled broadly, delicately running her fingertips over his small, curled up hand. At her gentle touch, Kyle slowly turned his face away from Sadusky's chest and looked at her curiously, blinking a couple of times as he started to wake up. The girl laughed a little as his hand uncurled, and his tiny fingers wrapped tightly around her larger one.

The FBI agent's smile mirrored her own. "Would you like to hold him, Clara?"

"Really?" Clara looked at Sadusky with surprise before glancing over at Ben to make sure that it was all right. When her father nodded with a smile, she quickly turned back to Agent Sadusky. "I would love to! If it's all right with you, that is."

"Of course it is, Clara," Sadusky told her. "I trust you. Here. Why don't you sit down in this chair?"

Clara immediately sat down in the chair that he pointed out in the entrance hall, and she held out her arms when the agent approached. Sadusky carefully lowered his grandson down and made sure that the fifteen-year-old was supporting him correctly before completely letting go of him. Kyle surprisingly didn't cry being separated from the man he knew. In fact, he continued to play with Clara's finger, looking up at her as he made a small noise that almost sounded like one of content.

"I'm going to get my camera," Riley said, passing Ben on the stairs as he headed for the room that he used whenever he stayed over at the Gates' estate.

"He's so little," Clara muttered, slightly shaking the hand he was using to clutch her finger. "Strong grip too."

"He's almost three months," Sadusky supplied, smiling once Ben approached him. He then lowered his voice a little as he directed his next words to the treasure hunter.

"I'm off today because Matthew's learning how to be the head agent, so he'll be busy for a while. And with Rebecca as busy as she is too, someone has to watch their child. Hopefully, things will settle down somewhat for them soon, but I've still been thinking that it may be time for me to quit. I'm certainly old enough. So, once Matthew learns everything that he needs to know to run the FBI, I think I'm going to retire. Even though he may not have much experience yet, he'll have Agent Johnson and some others to guide him through the first few years, and I'll be willing to lend a helping hand whenever I need to. But I can't keep doing this job forever."

Ben sighed as he nodded, knowing exactly what the other man was talking about. "I know what you mean, Sadusky," he agreed quietly, watching as Riley took a few pictures of Clara holding Kyle. "I know what you mean."

* * *

Nick sighed to himself as he grabbed another cold beer from the refrigerator before walking back into the living room of their apartment while Powell and Phil sleepily entered the room they shared. Though they only had two bedrooms in the apartment, the rooms themselves were large enough for two comfortable-sized beds to fit easily inside. Since they had all had to deal with smaller, more uncomfortable accommodations before, no one minded sharing a room as long as they had their own bed.

His eyes traveled over the state of the living room with amusement as he took a sip of beer. He, Powell, and Phil had ordered a pepperoni pizza for dinner that night since Ian hadn't been home, and the large box was still sitting open on the table in front of the television with the cold, tiny corner pieces still inside along with empty beer bottles sitting around it. Nick knew that they should probably clean the mess up, but they were just too tired. That's what happened when they stayed up all night watching reruns of "CSI." Besides, they could just as easily do it in the morning.

Well, later that morning. After a quick glance at the clock, Nick saw that it was almost half an hour past three. Ian had only been gone for about a day, and the apartment was already looking messier than before he had left. But even though they didn't know exactly how many days the English man would be gone, he knew that they could clean it up before he got home and he would never know.

Suddenly, the sound of a key being inserted into the lock on the door reached his ears, and Nick watched with shock as none other than Ian Howe himself entered, shutting and locking the door again behind him. "Ian, what are you doing here?" he asked quickly with confusion as the other man slipped his shoes off and threw his leather jacket on to the nearest chair. "I thought you wouldn't be back for a couple of days yet."

But Ian completely ignored him, walking straight past him as if he wasn't even there as his eyes moved past his stepbrother and the mess on the small table. Nick watched him carefully, able to tell that something was greatly bothering him as the older man entered the room they shared and shut and locked the door behind him. The younger man immediately set his beer bottle down on the counter and rushed to the door, trying to turn the doorknob even though he knew it was useless since Ian had locked him out.

"What's wrong, Ian?" Nick asked, hoping that his stepbrother could hear him through the door. "What happened in England?"

He heard a door open then, but it wasn't the door to his room. Nick looked to the right when he heard two pairs of footsteps approaching him from down the hall, and he watched as Powell and Phil came to a stop by him.

"What's going on, kid?" the Scotsman asked curiously. "We thought we heard you talking to someone."

"I was," Nick answered, backing away from the door with worry. Something was very wrong with his stepbrother… "Ian just got back, but he locked the door to the room…"

"Really?" Phil tried turning the doorknob once, but found that it truly was locked. Then, he ran to the window and looked down three stories to the parking lot below, seeing that Ian's black SUV was indeed in its proper place. "Hmm. Wonder what's up with him?"

Powell looked behind Nick into the living room, seeing that Ian's shoes were by the door with theirs and that his leather jacket was draped over the chair. The English man shouldn't have been back so soon. Something really must have gone wrong in England…

But then, to try to forget his own worry for their leader, he grinned mischievously. "Well, it looks like you'll be sleeping on the couch tonight, kid!" he teased with a laugh.

Nick crossed his arms and gave the older man an evil glare before rolling his eyes. "Oh, yeah. _Real_ mature, Powell…"

"Hope you don't get cold!" Phil added to the joke with a smirk, which only made Powell laugh even harder as they exchanged congratulatory high-fives.

Their young target, however, was appalled by their joking. "Where the hell are you guys getting this from?!" Nick asked, not as amused as the other two by the innuendos since they were directed at him.

"Sorry, kid. It's late," Powell answered through his laughter, but he could tell by Nick's disgruntled expression that it wasn't a very good excuse. "We just felt like being mean tonight, I guess, and this was the perfect opportunity if I do say so myself."

Then, he turned his attention to Phil, who was still standing next to him. "Aren't you glad that you're not the youngest anymore?"

Phil nodded as his smile broadened and continued to laugh a little. He was _definitely_ glad that all of the jokes made by the group were no longer directed at him. They could be merciless…

"Well, you guys aren't funny," Nick stated, sitting on the couch and then laying back against the cushioned arm. But a small smile had appeared on his face since he knew that his friends, of course, were only joking around.

Powell slowly stopped laughing and looked at Nick with a concerned eye. "But seriously, kid, would you like a blanket or something? It does get rather chilly out here at night."

"No, that's okay," Nick replied off-handedly. "I'll be fine here for a while. Ian should hopefully unlock the door soon…"

"Are you sure?" Phil pressed. "I mean, I could pick the lock on the door in a couple of seconds if you want."

Nick laughed a little at Phil's proposal, but he still shook his head. There was something definitely bothering Ian, and he knew that the older man just needed some time alone. He couldn't deny him that. "No, that's okay, Phil. Thanks, though."

Powell was still a little wary. "Well, all right, if you're sure," he said, clearly not happy about the situation Ian had put Nick in. "If you need anything, don't hesitate to knock, okay? The last thing we want is for you to get sick…"

"But I wouldn't want to interrupt anything," Nick grinned while he muttered under his breath, seeking revenge for the jokes that had been made about him a little earlier.

"Good one, kid," Powell smirked, lightly kicking his bare foot. "Have a good night, and we'll see you in the morning. Sweet dreams."

Nick nodded in response. "Good night." He then waited until Powell and Phil were back in their room after the older man had turned off the living room lights before quickly moving to another position, curling up on himself in an attempt to warm up a little. A couch was definitely uncomfortable to sleep on without a pillow, and he admitted to himself that Powell had been right when he had said the living room got cold at night. He just hated to bother them by asking for a blanket. And besides, Ian would be unlocking the door soon… wouldn't he?

What had happened in England that made him so withdrawn, so angry, that he wouldn't even talk to them? What was bothering Ian so much? Nick glanced at the door that his stepbrother was behind, which was the last thing he saw before his tired eyes closed, and he dozed off into sleep.

A few hours later when the sun was first beginning to rise, Powell quietly opened the door and entered the dark hallway to get a glass of water from the kitchen and also check on Nick to see how he was doing. He looked into the living room first at where he had left the younger man, and he smiled when he saw that he was sleeping peacefully with the blanket from his own bed over him and his own pillow beneath his head.

* * *

_"Green… Yellow… Green… Yellow… Green… Yellow… Red… Blue… Red… Green…"_

Clara lightly bit her bottom lip as she concentrated on her hand-eye coordination as she carefully watched the television screen. Her Uncle Riley stood beside her, playing the bass part as she moved through the guitar solo on their shared favorite video game known as "Guitar Hero III." The song, which they were playing together, which happened to be "Welcome to the Jungle" by Guns N' Roses, soon ended, and she high-fived her partner. "We make an awesome team," she said with a smile, seeing that they had beaten their previously highest score.

"That we do," Riley agreed as he entered in their names on the score list. "Keep working on that guitar part, my little bundle of joy, and you'll soon be making Slash himself jealous."

"I highly doubt that." Clara smiled as he shook her head a little. It was just a video game, not the real thing, and so she knew for sure that she would never be able to amount to the same guitar-playing ability as Slash himself… especially since he ranked high on her list of favorite guitarists.

"You know, I'm glad that you had the day off of school today so I could spend some time with you," Riley commented as he turned off the game system. "And also that your dad's letting you spend the night here, and I can just bring you to school tomorrow… But anyway, I hardly get to see you anymore because you're so busy now."

"I know," Clara agreed with a broad smile directed at her favorite uncle. "Thank you so much for letting me spend the night, Uncle Riley, and also bringing me to school tomorrow."

"Of course, Clara. It's my pleasure. Besides, I miss you," Riley replied. Then, he sighed as he paused for a moment, almost thoughtfully. "You know, that's one thing I'm going to miss about the treasure hunts your dad would bring us on. They are a god source of bonding."

Clara nodded in agreement, smiling sadly. "I know what you mean, Uncle Riley," she muttered. "I'm going to miss it too."

* * *

Nick slowly opened his eyes when the bright sunlight hit them, wincing slightly when the cramped muscles in his neck throbbed in protest. After a moment, he saw that the television was on and playing quietly, showing another marathon of "CSI." What time was it?

"Hey, Sleeping Beauty's finally awake! Welcome to the world of the living, kid!"

"Shut up, Powell," Nick muttered, closing his eyes again and pulling the blanket up to his face. It was still early, at least to him, and he wasn't exactly in the mood for Powell's joking at that time. But then, he realized with surprise that he was covered by the blanket from his bed, and that his head was lying on his own pillow. He was almost sure that Phil really hadn't broken into their room to get these items…

"Who…?"

Powell smiled as he checked his watch from the chair he sat in beside the couch. "I think you know who, Nick," he answered simply. "He even cleaned the mess off the table that we left last night while we were sleeping. It's almost noon, and I think he's in the kitchen right now. Oh, and Phil should be back from grocery shopping soon too…"

Nick tuned out the rest of the Scotsman's statement as he slowly stood up from the couch, rubbing the sleep from his eyes as he made his way down the hall and into the kitchen. He saw Ian standing over the stove, finishing boiling some angel hair noodles before mixing in the herbal seasonings. But he turned his head to look over his shoulder when he heard footsteps, and he smiled when he saw his stepbrother.

"Good, you're awake," Ian said, seeming strangely cheerful. "Do you want some lunch?"

"Uh… sure," Nick replied, feeling that he was actually hungry as he sat at the kitchen table. But he also felt confused by the older man's shift in behavior. It was a complete difference from when he had returned home during the night, and he wondered what could have possibly happened. "So, about last night…"

"Yeah, I'm sorry about locking you out, Nick," Ian interrupted him, pulling two bowls out of the cupboard. "I just needed some time alone to think some things over. But when I came out to get you, I saw that you had already fallen asleep. I didn't want to wake you, so I gave you your pillow and blanket."

Nick nodded as Ian placed the two bowls of steaming noodles on the table, the older man sitting across from him before handing him a fork. That wasn't exactly what he was getting at, and he knew that Ian knew it too. He also knew that whenever the English man needed to be alone, his mind was on something that had happened… and normally, it was something bad. Nick twirled some noodles around his fork and began to raise them to his mouth, but paused as he sighed, deciding to ask the question that had been on his mind since his stepbrother had returned.

"What happened in England, Ian?"

Ian raised his gaze to the younger man, but before he could say a word, a third man entered the kitchen. "Oh, hey, Powell," he said, completely dropping his conversation with Nick. "There are some more noodles on top of the stove. Why don't you join us for lunch?"

Powell smiled and nodded in response. "Thanks, Ian. I will."

While the Scotsman went to the cupboard and grabbed a bowl, a fork, and some salt, Ian watched him thoughtfully for a long moment. Then, he sighed. "Powell, do you happen to remember seeing a dagger with an emerald handle that Shaw and I had years ago anywhere?" he asked casually. "I've been looking for it, but I haven't been able to find it."

The question was strange, but Powell decided not to think anything of it as he looked over his shoulder while he began picking up noodles with his fork into his bowl. "Um, no. At least, not recently," he answered him. "I don't remember when I saw it last. Why are you asking about it now?"

Ian shook his head with a small smile. "Oh, no reason. I'm just curious, that's all," he told him, brushing the question off. "Thank you anyway, Powell."

* * *

"Okay. I know I told you that I would stand by every decision you made and not let you go through this process alone, Ben, but this is just _crazy_! We suck at this!"

"I really appreciate your willingness to stay with me, Riley, but we haven't even really tried this yet. How do you know that we're bad at it?"

Riley rolled his eyes as though it was obvious. "Because we're not even off the first tee yet," he told him.

Ben paused for a minute, and then sighed. "Yeah, okay. Good point."

The techie sighed, looking behind them nervously at the line of people that happened to be very good at golfing that had formed behind them, waiting impatiently for the two of them to be done so they could have their turns. His best friend just had to pick the Country Club Golf Course for their first ever attempt at this sport… "Don't you think that we could have gone mini-golfing instead?" he whispered. "It's much easier and would save us a load of embarrassment."

"I don't think that's what Abigail had in mind when she suggested that I get a new hobby so that I'm not sitting around the house all day bored while she's at work and Clara's at school," Ben muttered back. "She said that golfing is a good place to start and that a lot of rich people do it."

"Yeah, if you're good at it." Riley rolled his eyes again. He could tell that the almost-professionals behind them were getting restless.

"How do you ever expect to be good at something if you don't practice it?" Ben posed to him before concentrating on hitting the golf ball. The two friends were silent for a long moment, and then the older man swung his club back and hit the white ball. He and Riley watched as it flew an okay distance, but not as far as most others were going.

Then, it was Riley's turn. He set his golf ball on his tee and held the club, seeming to be concentrating hard on what he was about to do. But then, he looked over at his friend with a sheepish smile. "Ben, how do you even hold the stick?"

The question caught Ben off guard, but it brought a smile to his face. "It's a _club_, Riley, not a stick," he told him. "This isn't hockey, you know."

"It's the same difference," Riley protested in his defense. "Haven't you ever seen_ Happy_ _Gilmore_?"

Ben rolled his eyes as he laughed. "Just raise your right hand a little… There you go. All right, now swing."

"Okay… Fore!" Riley swung the golf club, watching as the ball veered off course and flew out of sight. He looked over at Ben, about to ask if he knew where it went, but then both friends cringed when they heard the sound of shattering glass.

"What that my ball?"

"I think so, Riley. That sounded like a window breaking…"

"Maybe we should just go…"

"Yeah, let's go."

* * *

The next three days since Ian's abrupt return from England were normal… well, almost normal. Ian himself had spent an uncharacteristically long amount of time on their laptop, and while he tried to pass it off as something that wasn't important whenever he was asked about it, his three roommates weren't at all convinced.

Powell sighed as he sat down on the couch beside Nick on the evening of the third day after Ian had come home. "Ian seems as though he's been really anxious lately," he commented to the younger man. "What do you think he's been doing?"

Nick shook his head in an almost defeated way, and the Scotsman knew that he had observed the same thing that he had. "I don't know," he told him quietly. "I wish I did, though… Maybe we could even help him a little."

"He usually acts like this when he's researching something important," Phil spoke up, recalling Ian's behavior from past experiences.

"But what could he be researching?" Nick asked him. "He hasn't told us about anything at all."

"Well, you know your brother, kid," Powell told him. "Sometimes, there are just some things that he feels he has to take care of himself. Give him some time, and it will be all right. You'll see."

This thought seemed to put all three of their minds at rest, so it wasn't as great a surprise as it could have been when they woke up the next morning to find that Ian Howe was nowhere to be found. They searched the entire apartment, but they found no trace that would give them a clue to the English man's whereabouts.

"Where do you think he went?" Nick asked once he, Powell, and Phil met in the kitchen after doing their respective searches. "He didn't leave a note or anything. He just disappeared over night. I didn't even hear him leave."

Powell nodded thoughtfully, but he didn't seem to be too concerned yet. After all, he was used to this sort of thing from Ian. He had left without warning a few times when he and Shaw lived with him in the States. "I have no idea where he could have gone, but I'm sure he'll be back in a couple of days at the most. He always does."

**A/N**: Well, that's it for this one! Much thanks to **Halo** for giving me the golfing idea and the "Happy Gilmore" line! That was a great addition to the chapter! I have the next two completely outlined, so hopefully I can have them up soon. I hope you all enjoyed it! Thanks for reading! Your reviews are much appreciated. Thank you!


	6. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer**: Nope, nothing from the movies belong to me.

**A/N**: Hey, sorry for the long wait, guys. It's been a hectic week for me. After a freak accident with a folding chair and another one with smoldering hot coffee, both of my hands were injured and made typing very uncomfortable. Then, I had a lot of homework in my AP classes, so I couldn't get around to typing once my hands starting feeling better. Then, my brother is now back in the hospital (went in last night), so that's just made everything worse and much more stressful. So, your thoughts and prayers are appreciated! And your reviews definitely make my day brighter, so I really appreciate those too! Speaking of reviews… Thank you so, so much to **Thuraya Known**, **Receneck**, **kutlessgurl90**, **broadwaylover07**, **LupinandHarry**, **Halo**, **Miss Fenway**, and **MonkeyShooter07 **for your wonderful reviews! Please enjoy the next chapter! Oh, and just a note… I know it's mainly Ian angst right now, but there will also definitely be some Riley angst later on, so yeah. Anyway, enjoy!

_Chapter 5_

Clara sat in one of the chairs at the wooden table with Jasper beside her in his small yet comfortable kitchen to do her geometry homework. His grandmother, Lucy, was in the room with them, cooking a delicious dinner of wild rice, herbal potatoes, and meatballs. The fifteen-year-old would often get distracted by the smell or by the sounds of Isabel and Mae running around on the floor above them, but she was always brought back to her homework by a gentle touch of Jasper's hand on hers or by his quiet voice asking her if she knew how to solve the problem they were currently working on. Clara knew that she much preferred algebra to this kind of math, but the good thing was that her boyfriend had the class she was in now the year before, so it wasn't too difficult for him to help her.

"I'm getting so sick of triangles," she muttered after finishing a problem that had a very difficult triangle angle to solve for.

Jasper laughed a little, taking her left hand in his and giving it a reassuring squeeze. "Believe me, you'll definitely be tired of them by the end of the year. There's many more of them to come," he told her. "Just wait until you get to sine, cosine, and tangent."

The sophomore girl groaned. "Was that supposed to make me feel better? I really don't like the sound of that…"

"You won't like it, believe me."

Clara sighed with frustration, her eyes moving away from her textbook once more. They landed on a crucifix that was hanging on the wall over the table, and she remembered from her tour of the house that there was also one in every room. Then, the more she studied the small kitchen, she noticed that there were strands of garlic hanging on nails that were sticking out of the wall around the stove. Strange… "Why do you have so much garlic?" she asked, looking curiously back at her boyfriend.

Jasper noticeably looked uncomfortable at the inquiry. "Grandma uses it a lot for cooking," he answered her, almost a little too quickly.

"Don't be silly, Jasper. It's for protection against evil forces," Lucy argued from where she stood over the stove, and Clara was surprised by her statement. These were the first words that she had heard the elderly woman speak all evening since her and Jasper got home from school other than, 'Hello, good to see you.' "Isabel! Mae! Come down now, girls, dinner's ready!"

"Grandma…" Jasper muttered, almost in a warning tone.

"Protection? Against what kind of evil?" Clara wondered, her attention moving back to Jasper when she heard Isabel and Mae's, Jasper's younger twin sisters, thundering footsteps on the stairs. She was definitely curious now.

"Not now," Jasper told her with a slight smile and a sigh, knowing that he couldn't get out of an explanation for long. "First, tell me what the third angle in this triangle is if one is thirty degrees and the other is ninety."

* * *

Four days passed by slowly, and there was still no word from Ian. They had tried calling him a few times, but they never got an answer. Thought it had been a little longer than Powell had originally predicted, he, Nick, and Phil still were not overly worried. Four days wasn't too bad of a time to be gone- if it got to be too much longer, however, then there would be a cause for worry, especially if the English man didn't contact them.

One thing they knew that they didn't have to worry about was the possibility that Ian had been taken by force against his will- such as being captured or arrested. When Powell, Phil, and Nick had done their searches of the apartment for any sign or clue as to where he could have gone to so suddenly, they noticed that necessities such as his hairbrush and toothbrush were also gone. That meant that he had deliberately packed up and left, and that he would hopefully be returning soon. That thought quenched their worries somewhat.

During the late afternoon of the fourth day after Ian's unexplainable disappearance, Powell sat on the couch with his reading glasses as he looked over the day's newspaper while Phil sat in the chair beside him, absentmindedly watching _The Matrix_, and Nick took a shower. As he skimmed over a story about a missing child case, the Scotsman suddenly gasped and lowered the paper.

"_Now_ I remember…"

Phil slowly looked away from the television screen at the sound of his statement. "Remember what?" he asked quietly with confusion. He had no idea about what the older man was talking about.

Powell sighed as he folded the newspaper and set it aside before taking off his reading glasses. "The morning after Ian came back from England, he asked me if I had remembered the last time I saw the emerald-handled dagger that he and Shaw had years ago," he answered. "I told him I didn't, but now I do… clear as day…"

"I remember." Phil knew the list time that he had seen the ornate antique that his older friend was speaking of, but he didn't dare voice it.

"I remember that it was shortly before we left to go find _The Charlotte_," Powell continued, racking his brain for the details. "Everyone had left for the cars but Shaw and I, and… and he grabbed it and kept it close to him. He had said something about it bringing good luck…"

There was an uncomfortable, tense silence hanging heavily in the living room as Powell's sentence trailed off. Both of them wished that what he had said wasn't true, but also knew that it was…

"Do you realize what you just said?" Phil ventured after a long moment. His voice was nearly a whisper as the grim reality settled in for both men.

"What did he say?"

Powell and Phil quickly looked up, seeing that Nick had entered the living room. He was dressed casually in a t-shirt and jeans, but no socks, as he continued to towel-dry his blond hair.

"We… we just realized where the dagger that Ian was asking about was," Powell was the first to speak, but his expression was pained.

"Oh?" Nick looked genuinely interested. "Where is it?"

"You'll find out when I tell Ian." Powell took out his cell phone and dialed Ian's number while Nick sat down next to him on the couch. "Damn it," the Scotsman muttered heatedly when he was once again greeted by Ian's voicemail. He quickly hung up and tried again, but the result was the same. He tried a couple of more times, but each time, he didn't answer.

Finally, he decided to leave a message in hopes that their English friend would get it. "Ian, it's Powell. We're just a little concerned that we can't get a hold of you, and we're hoping that everything's okay.

"But my main reason for calling is that I remember the last time I saw that dagger you asked me about now…

"Shaw had it."

* * *

Silence. All he heard… was silence.

Ian felt the phone vibrate in his pocket as he rode in the back of the taxi through the England streets, but it made no sound since he had silenced it. The first couple of times he had gotten calls, he checked the caller ID. Seeing each time that it was Powell, he eventually stopped checking. Finally, the calls stopped coming, and the English man checked his cell phone only to see that he had one voice message. But he only put it back in his pocket, deliberately deciding not to listen to it. He already suspected what his old friend had to say, and he didn't want to hear it.

Ian had already exhausted every possibility of where the dagger could have been back home in America, and now he was going to do the same thing in England. It wasn't an easy process since he had to search every place that he and Shaw had used to store something important, which presented him with a few options, and he was worn out. There was one more option in the back of his mind, constantly nagging at him, but he wasn't going to even consider it unless all of his other searches came up empty.

The one thing that Ian knew for sure was that he had been the one in possession of the dagger, no matter what Richard said. He was sure that his father hadn't had it, but just in case, he had snuck into his house while Richard and Gerald were away just to make sure. Just as he had thought, he couldn't find the dagger anywhere, but what he _did_ find was the journal of his ancestor that his father had discovered while he was in Transylvania. After quick thought, Ian had taken it, knowing that it could give him the clues to find the mirror of Dracula before Richard did.

His father had to be stopped, which was the thought that kept him going.

"We're here."

Ian looked out the window of the taxi, and painful memories immediately flooded back to him. This was the house that he, Shaw, and Nick had lived in before they moved to the States- the last place that he could think of to look for the dagger. He slung his backpack over his shoulder, thanked the driver and paid him, waiting until the man drove away before beginning his walk toward the house. Besides the navy blue car that now sat in the driveway, everything was exactly the way he had left it.

He rang the doorbell nervously and waited. A minute later, a mild-tempered-looking man answered the door, pleasant as he greeted his visitor. "How can I help you, Sir?"

The English man sighed heavily. "This may sound strange, but I used to live here many years ago, and I think that I may have left something here that's of high importance. Do you mind if I have a look around?"

After showing him his driver's license, his credit cards, and everything else that he had in his possession that would validate his identity, Ian was let inside. The house now belonged to the young man and his wife Brittany, along with their seven-year-old son Garrett. They were all polite to him despite the circumstances, and Brittany even gave him a glass of water while Garrett showed him his model airplane.

And so, after that, Ian began his search. He tried to ignore their awed stares as he pulled up floorboards and panels in the wall to reveal secret compartments that the three new inhabitants didn't even know existed in their home. After Garrett's exclamation of, "This is totally wicked," Brittany took him outside to play in the backyard. Ian looked over every inch of the house- every secret place that he and Shaw had created- for the better part of an hour, but at the end, he hadn't found anything. So, after putting everything back the way it was, he thanked the shocked man and left. Ian quickly walked down the walkway, stopping on the sidewalk at the edge of the street to wait for another taxi. Now, he knew that there was only one option left…

Running his hand through his hair, Ian pulled out his cell phone and brought it to his ear, beginning to listen to Powell's voice message.

* * *

Ian hadn't been gone for such a long period of time before, and the worries of the three men were beginning to reach their peak. Nick restlessly paced in the living room while Phil sat in the armchair and played with his pocketknife while he blankly stared at the blank television screen. Powell sat on the couch beside him, but he couldn't sit still in one place for very long, and he kept changing positions. They hadn't talked about what was bothering them, but they each knew that they were all worried about the same thing- namely, the mysterious disappearance of their fearless leader. It had been an entire week now, and there still hadn't been any word from Ian.

"You know, you _do_ realize that if Shaw was still alive right now…" Nick began to mutter as he continued to wear a hole in the floor, the thought suddenly coming to his scattered mind.

"If Shaw was still alive right now, he would have found Ian days ago and told him off for ditching the rest of us," Powell finished the thought for him, irritably shifting on the couch again.

Nick stopped pacing and turned to face the older man, his expression hurt. "No. I was actually going to say if Shaw was still alive right now, Ian would have brought him with him and _still_ ditched the rest of us."

Powell sighed and lowered his gaze from Nick's intense one. He didn't have a response to that statement, mainly because he knew that it was true. Shaw was close to Ian, possibly more so than to the rest of them since the bald Brit had been his right hand man, and wherever Ian went, Shaw typically wasn't very far behind him…

Aggravated by the silent tension, Phil straightened up in his seat as he closed his pocketknife and put it in his pocket. "I've had it. We need to go find him," he muttered. "This has gone on long enough. It's time for us to go after him."

"I agree with you, Phil, but were do you propose we start?" Powell asked, his gaze weary. He had never been more worried about Ian in all the years that he had known him. "We don't even know where he went."

Phil met his gaze steadily. "We call Gates."

* * *

"So, the whole golfing thing didn't work out, huh, guys?" Abigail asked with slight amusement as she took a sip of her hot apple cider.

"No way, Abi. I'm never doing that again," Riley answered. There was a mug of cider on the table in front of him as well, but he completely ignored it while he complained. "You have no idea how embarrassing it is when you're surrounded by people that are actually good at that sport."

Ben smiled slightly at the memories of their experience earlier that week, nodding in agreement. His hands were wrapped around his hot mug, the warmth combating the November chill that had settled in the house.

"Well, I'm sure that there are other activities that you two could try," Abigail said thoughtfully. "How about… polo? That's another thing a lot of retired people do…"

But Riley immediately shook his head, protesting this idea. He didn't want to involve himself in sports that had to do with a stick hitting a ball. That didn't tend to go too well… especially if it involved riding a horse at the same time. "No, Abs. Polo is something that Ian would do if he ever retired."

"Besides, Abigail, do you realize how many broken bones there are in polo each year?" Ben told his wife. "It's more dangerous than treasure hunting!"

Abigail shrugged as she set her mug down on the kitchen table. "Well, you're going to have to find something to do, Ben," she replied. "You can't just sit around the house all day."

Before Ben could answer, his cell phone began to ring. He quickly pulled it out of his pocket and checked the caller ID and saw that it was Phil. Confused, he flipped the small phone open and brought it to his ear. "Hello?"

He was startled to hear that Phil sounded anxious.

"_Ben, we need you. We have a problem. Ian's missing."_

**A/N**: Dun dun dun. Lol. Writing this story definitely helps me forget about the stresses of my normal life. But I hope that you enjoyed this chapter! Oh, and I forgot to mention that I did miss a tiny part in my trailer. It's in the long sequence of shots that are in slow motion, and there was supposed to be a line that said_ "Riley pulling a shocked Abigail close to him."_ And also, the song that my trailer is set to is called "Somebody Help Me" by Full Blown Rose. It's the theme song for the show "Tru Calling," and for those of you who have never seen it, the song is on youtube if you're curious. So anyway, thanks for reading! Your reviews are much appreciated. Thank you!


	7. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer**: Uh… nope. Last time I checked, no one from the movies was mine, and nothing has changed. Even though I wish that it could be…

**A/N**: Hey, guys! By some stroke of luck, I have only like ten minutes of homework tonight, so I'm able to update! Yay for tests! Not really, but that is why I have like no homework. Anyway, the update on my brother is that he is out of the hospital now, and his procedure went one hundred percent well! So, we're all thrilled! Thank you all for your thoughts and prayers! Also, thank you so much to **kutlessgurl90**, **Halo**, **broadwaylover07**, **Miss Fenway**, **Thuraya Known**, **Spellinggirl**, **LupinandHarry**, **Jedi'Pirate Jaeh**, and **MonkeyShooter07** for your encouraging reviews! I really appreciate them. So, enjoy this next chapter! I don't think there's any warning… except the fact that this is going to be another angst-filled chapter. Enjoy!

_Chapter Six_

Ben's face instantly darkened as his gaze faltered, and he could tell by the looks that Abigail and Riley were giving him that they knew something was wrong. "What?" he asked in disbelief into his cell phone. Ian was _missing_?

"_Ian's been missing for an entire week now," _Phil elaborated for him. _"Do you have any idea where he might be?"_

"No, I'm afraid I don't. I have no idea," Ben told him. "Hold on, okay? I'll be there soon, and we can figure something out."

"_All right. Thanks, Ben."_

"No problem. See you soon."

"What's going on, Ben?" Abigail asked immediately as soon as her husband flipped his phone closed.

Ben sighed heavily, running his hand through his hair nervously. "I guess Ian's been missing for a week, and Phil, Powell, and Nick are worried because they have idea where he is," he answered her quietly.

"It's nine' o'clock. Do you know where _your_ Ian is?" Riley said sarcastically, attempting to add some dry humor into the situation without success.

"I told them that I would be over there right away to help them try to find him," Ben continued, ignoring his best friend's comment. "Come on, Riley, you should probably come too."

"All right, Ben. No problem." Even though he had made a joke about the current situation of the man's disappearance, it was clear that Riley was just as worried as the rest of them about where their English friend could have gone.

Abigail watched warily as the two men quickly stood up, said goodbye to her and left the room, sighing when she heard the front door close behind them. She sighed as she got to her feet and picked up the three apple cider mugs and brought them to the sink to be washed. The blonde woman had an idea of what the search for Ian could potentially lead to, and she wasn't pleased with it in the least.

* * *

"Is it normal for Ian to just disappear and not tell anyone where he's going?" Riley asked from the passenger seat of Ben's car as they drove toward the English man's apartment. "You've known him longer than I have."

"I'm not sure, Riley," Ben answered as he turned right at an intersection. "I didn't know him for too long of a time before we went on the hunt for the Templar Treasure. Powell, Phil, and obviously Nick have known him for much longer than I have. The fact that they're worried is what concerns me."

The rest of the drive was silent, and Ben finally pulled into the parking lot of the apartment that Ian and his group stayed in. He parked in the spot where the English man's black SUV should have been, the spot now strangely empty. He shut the car off and pulled the keys out of the ignition before turning to the younger man.

"Ready?"

Riley nodded in answer, and they both got out of the car. Ben locked it behind them as they entered the hallway and ran up three flights of stairs to where their friends' apartment was. The older man knocked once they reached the right door, and it opened a minute later to reveal Phil.

"Hey, thanks for coming so soon, guys," he said, stepping aside to let them in.

"Not a problem. We're concerned too," Ben replied, seeing that Nick and Powell were standing on the opposite side of the living room, appearing tense and anxious. "So, what exactly happened? Ian was just… gone one day?"

Nick nodded. "Pretty much. Remember when he had to make a trip to England the night of Clara's play? Well, he did leave, but he came back the very next night. We expected him to be gone for a couple of days at ht least, and what was stranger yet was that he didn't talk to any of us and locked himself in his room when he came back. We're not sure what happened or why he even left for England in the first place, but whatever it was, it couldn't have been good.

"The next afternoon, though, he was strangely cheerful- almost as though nothing had ever happened the night before. But then, over the next three days, he spent a lot of time on the laptop, presumably researching something. He kept telling us that it wasn't important and wouldn't tell us anything, even though we knew it had to be important.

"Then, the next morning, he was gone. He had just disappeared over night, not leaving a note or anything. We presume that there's just something he feels that he has to take care of by himself. We haven't heard from him ever since."

"Kinda' reminds me of Frodo," Riley muttered thoughtfully. He was surprised when he saw all of the confused expressions he received. "What? Haven't any of you seen _The Lord of the Rings_? At the end of the first one, the character of Frodo…" His sentence slowly trailed off when he saw Ben's raised eyebrow. "Right. Sorry. Continue."

Powell sighed. "I'm afraid that's about it, really," he said quietly. "We didn't expect him to disappear so suddenly, per se, but with his strange change in behavior and unusual amount of time on the laptop, we knew that something had to be up."

"Well, did you check the computer history?" Riley asked. "You could probably get a clue as to where he went from what he was researching."

"We tried," Phil answered in a defeated tone. "Unfortunately, he erased it clean."

Riley sighed, knowing that finding Ian was gong to get a lot more difficult. Then again, he had always known that the English man was smart…

"So, I take it that Ian hasn't done this kind of thing before," Ben stated.

"He has, just not as long as a time before," Nick corrected, speaking from his and Powell's personal experiences. "There would be times where he felt he would just have to get away from everything and handle something important on his own. But, he would always contact us…"

"Okay." Ben nodded, thinking over the situation carefully. "So, did Ian say anything before he left that could give you a clue as to where he went?"

Powell nervously exchanged looks with Phil and Nick, and he instantly saw that he was going to have to be the one to explain this part of their story. "Well… there was one thing. There was this special dagger that Ian and Shaw had for years, even before I met them, and it had high importance to them. I'm not sure where they got it or why they had it, but that's not important.

"What _is _important is that Ian asked me the day after he came back from England if I remembered where I had last seen it since no one has seen it for years. I told him no, because I didn't at the time. When I asked him why he wanted to know, he said that he was just curious. That was about four days before he left."

"Do you remember when you last saw it now?" Ben asked, remembering Powell saying that he hadn't remembered "at the time." His instinct told him that Ian was searching for this strange dagger that he had asked about, though he wasn't sure why. And if Powell knew where that place was, that was most likely where Ian would be.

"Unfortunately… yes," Powell answered heavily, his eyes darkening with sorrow and worry. "Shortly before we left to find _The Charlotte_, Shaw grabbed the dagger and took it with him. He said something about having it for good luck…"

There was a tense silence between the five men when the Scotsman didn't finish his sentence. But that all knew what it meant…

Riley groaned, putting his face into his hands. "You have _got_ to be kidding me…"

Ben swallowed nervously as he thought this information over. "But you don't think that Ian would _really_ go _there_, do you?" he asked quietly, hoping for some reassurance from the people that knew the English man best.

He didn't get any.

Nick exchanged a nervous look with Powell before he sighed. "If that's what Ian feels he really has to do… he just might."

* * *

"You're leaving?"

Ben sighed as he looked down into his wife's upset eyes. "I'm sorry that it's so sudden, Abigail, but we're only going to New York since we think that's where Ian might be," he explained. "You don't have to worry because it's not a treasure hunt or anything like that." He purposely didn't tell her their exact destination, since then, she really would have worried about them.

Abigail crossed her arms, trying to act as impatiently as she could. "Well, do you want Clara and I to come along with you?" she asked.

"No," Ben answered heavily as he placed his hands on her arms. "I think it would be best if you didn't come this time."

The blonde woman looked up into his eyes for a long moment, not thrilled with the idea of letting him and Riley leave without her. The three of them had been a team for so many years that it felt strange to her to be left behind. But then, Abigail sighed, knowing that she didn't have any other choice. Her husband had made up his mind, and there wasn't anything that she could do to change it.

"All right, Ben. Just be careful. I hope you find Ian."

* * *

Ian Howe sat in the back pew of Trinity Church, his eyes resting blankly on the decorated altar at the front. The sun was just beginning to set outside, and the golden rays cast multi-colored light into the sanctuary through the stained-glass windows that lined the walls.

It looked exactly the same to him as when he had been there years before when he was on the hunt for the Templar Treasure…

Except this time, his mission was different. He knew what he had to do here in this place, but that didn't mean that he wanted to go through with it. Not even the hours of mental preparation during the flight from England and his drive to New York could have readied him for the task that now lay ahead of him. Ian knew that he wasn't ready, but he also knew that he had no other choice now. This was the only option he had left.

Powell's message on his cell phone had confirmed what he himself had long suspected, and so here he was, back in Trinity Church- the last place in the world he wanted to be.

Ian couldn't believe that he was actually going to do this- this task that he would fight hard to avoid if he had the choice. He knew that if he could, he would just leave and turn back, never to return. But what choice did he have now? The English man knew that he didn't have any other option…

For only a short moment, Ian thought that he would have greatly appreciated Powell, Nick, and Phil being with him, sitting beside him as he thought about the drastic, dangerous step that he now had no choice but to take. But he couldn't bring himself to drag them into the situation. He couldn't allow them to suffer along with him. That was why he had left in the middle of the night without telling them where he was going so they wouldn't follow him… so they wouldn't be put in danger.

Ian knew that it was worth doing this trying task alone if it didn't put the people he cared about at risk. It had happened already… and he couldn't let it happen again. First, Shaw had died in the same place that he was now sitting in. Then, he had almost lost Nick, his only brother, on their hunt for the Jesse James treasure in St. Joseph, Missouri. And even Dustin Poole, Riley's older brother who he had never really gotten along with, was killed in Siberia… all while operating under his name.

And he couldn't bear to think who could possibly be next…

"Ian! Oh, thank God we found you!"

Startled out of his reverie by the loud, relieved voices, Ian quickly looked up only to see that Nick, Powell, Phil, Ben, and Riley were standing in the aisle at the end of his pew, all with identical, elated smiles on their faces. The English man, on the other hand, wasn't so thrilled as he quickly pushed himself to his feet. "What the hell…?"

"Ian, don't you _dare_ run off on us like that again," Powell scolded, but his smile made his statement much less threatening.

"You had us worried sick about you!" Nick added.

But Ian still did not smile in return, even though he was being confronted by his closest friends. "How did you find me?" he asked solemnly.

Powell's eyes shone. "Let's just say that we know you too well, Ian," he answered simply.

"I can't believe that we actually found you here though," Riley muttered, looking around the sanctuary warily. "I mean, it's… well… _here_ of all places…"

There was a tense moment of silence between the six men before Ian sighed and ran his hand through his blond hair. "You shouldn't have come," he told them, so quietly that they could barely hear him. "None of you should be here."

The rest of the group exchanged uncomfortable glances, their smiles vanishing. Then, Powell sighed as he dared to wonder, "So… does that mean that you're really going to go down there and find Shaw's body?"

Ian met his gaze, his voice faltering slightly as he replied, "I have to, Powell. I need to get that dagger." His eyes were pained, confused- qualities that did not suit the normally strong, driven man.

"What is so important about that dagger that you would make yourself go through _that_ alone, Ian?" Ben asked, his concern for his friend evident in his tone.

But the English man just shook his head in answer. "Not now, Ben. I just have to get this over with." He pushed his way past the group of five and began walking down the aisle toward the altar, hoping to just leave his friends behind… hoping that they wouldn't follow him…

He didn't get far, however, when a familiar hand grabbed his arm. Ian stopped and turned around with frustration to see Nick looking back at him with worry.

"We're here for you, Ian," the younger man told him quietly. "You don't have to do this alone."

"No," Ian said firmly, wrenching his arm from his stepbrother's grasp. "I can't ask any of you to do this with me."

"You don't have to ask us," Phil stated firmly as he, Powell, Ben, and Riley came up behind Nick. "We already lost Shaw to this place, Ian, we're not going to risk losing you too. We're going with you."

Ian looked around at each of their faces, able to see the determination in their eyes, and he gave a resigned sigh. He knew with an inexplicable blend of relief and apprehension that he was not alone.

**A/N**: Well, I'm afraid that's it for this one! I bet that you never would have imagined that I would have them go through this! Probably one of the first (if not the first) times you've seen this done. So, I bet you can guess that the next chapter will be when they actually go down. I'm warning you now that the next chapter will take me a while to write due to all of the different emotions of the part, so bear with me, and I'll get it up as soon as I can! Thanks for reading! Your reviews are much appreciated. Thanks!


	8. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer**: Nope, nothing is mine. And the task they're about to do in this chapter is original, so I guess it's kinda mine (thanks to **Halo** for helping!).

**A/N**: Well, fortunately, this chapter wasn't as hard to write as I thought it was going to be. I actually wrote it later at night, so I was able to get the proper emotions across. But I am warning you that this is a very angst-filled chapter since it includes something that has never really been done before. It is torture for our favorite characters, so I'm just warning you that this is going to be SAD! But, it's good to see that you're looking forward to it, so let's roll! Thank you so much to **momiji'sunusedhalo**, **daisyduke80**, **broadwaylover07**, **Miss Fenway**, **Thuraya Known**, **Halo **(hope you had fun in Denver!), **kutlessgurl90**, **LupinandHarry**, **LoremIpsum**, **MonkeyShooter07**, and **Receneck** for your awesome reviews! So, without further ado, let's get this chapter started!

_Chapter 7_

The group of six left Trinity Church, relieved that Ian was coming with them quietly, and took the rest of the day to prepare- eating a warm, proper meal, gathering their equipment for what lay ahead of them the next day, and getting a lot of rest. Though he didn't voice his thoughts aloud, they could tell that the English man was not at all pleased that they were there and that he had to delay his journey beneath the church any further.

"I was prepared for it, Nick," he muttered when his younger stepbrother confronted him about it, mainly trying to convince himself. "I was ready to face it…"

Nick sighed sadly as he placed his hand comfortingly on his shoulder. "I don't think that you'll ever be fully prepared for something like this, Ian," he said quietly. "What he have to do now is very difficult. But that's why you have us with you so you're not alone."

Ian looked at him for a long moment as he sighed deeply. He was relieved that Nick was there, but he was also still apprehensive that he was going to be in danger. He would have rather made the trip alone instead of putting his stepbrother at risk.

The night passed slowly, mainly because no one got any sleep in the crowded hotel room they had rented. Nick, Powell, and Phil sat cramped together on the couch, watching a marathon of the "Indiana Jones" movies while Riley sat cross-legged in the chair beside them, absentmindedly surfing the internet on his laptop. Ben paced from the living room to the kitchen and back, often stopping to refill his glass of water from the sink, and Ian sat alone in the one bedroom, so no one knew exactly what he was thinking about. They could only assume that it was about what was coming up the next day.

When the sun began to rise the next morning, all six men rose stiffly from the positions they had been staying in for the entire night and began to gather their bags of equipment together. Ian emerged from the bedroom, already completely packed and ready to leave, which came as no surprise to the rest of the group. Then, making sure that they had everything with them, they left the room and headed out to the parking lot. The English man climbed into the driver's seat of his black SUV with Nick in the passenger's seat beside him and Powell and Phil in the back while Ben and Riley climbed into the older man's car. Ian pulled out of the space first, and with Ben behind him, they left the parking lot and drove in the direction of Trinity Church.

The beautiful building had an almost eerie aura to it as Ian and Ben slowed to a stop and parked in front of the church. The blond man could feel Nick's eyes on him with concern when he didn't get out of the SUV immediately after he turned the ignition off, but then he sighed and unbuckled his seatbelt, climbing out of the driver's seat and shutting the door behind him.

Nick, Powell, and Phil left the vehicle just as Ian met with Ben and Riley. "Are we ready?" the English man asked quietly, his tone sounding unsure. Powell exchanged anxious looks with Phil and Nick while Ben and Riley did the same, but since he got no spoken objections, Ian sighed as he ran his hand through his hair. "All right then. Let's go."

The blond man led the way into the church and the empty sanctuary, and Ben left Riley's side to walk with Ian to hopefully provide some comfort as they quickly passed all of the pews and entered a door off to the side to begin their downward journey. Both men knew that the task that lay ahead of them now was going to be extremely difficult. They were all haunted by the memory of what had occurred years before when they had been in that very building, Ian especially since the member of the team they had lost was his closest friend. Even Nick, who hadn't been with them on that fateful hunt, was noticeably uncomfortable in the beautiful building because of the memory of the tragic accident that had occurred there since he had been close to Shaw as well.

They soon reached the crypt, easily finding the grave of Parkington Lane. Since the same tomb had been disturbed by basically the same group of people, it was much simpler to climb into the "creepy tunnel inside the tomb" as Riley had called it the first time they were there, and with the flashlights they had brought along with them to guide their way, their journey through the tunnel was also much easier. There were no uncertainties this time about what would be waiting for them on the other side.

Unfortunately, it also took the group a shorter time to reach the marvelous structure in their anxiousness. Not having seen it before, Phil and Nick cautiously stepped to the edge of the wooden platform to look down beneath them, awed by the well-structured framework beneath their feet. But when he saw the gaping hole that the structure circled around, Nick felt his stomach tighten up nervously, knowing that this was where Shaw had fallen.

Powell stood a little distance behind them with Ben beside him to make sure that neither Phil or Nick fell, Riley hanging slightly back behind them, feeling very uncomfortable. Ian hung back the farthest, his face pale, as he eyed the wooden structure warily. It had already claimed his right-hand man, his closest friend. Would it take anyone else from him this time?

"We'll have to take a couple of the elevators down since a lot of the stairs have been broken," Ian told the others, his voice faltering as the memories came flooding back to him…

_The subway rattling overhead…_

_The wooden walkway collapsing beneath Shaw's feet…_

_Shaw falling out of sight…_

_"Shaw! Oh, God, Shaw!"_

Ian shook his head to try to clear his mind of all the haunting memories, but he only managed to suppress them. "We'll still have to walk down some of the stairs to reach the elevators, so everyone just be extremely careful." Then, the English man took a deep breath as he passed the rest of the group, heading toward the first short flight of wooden stairs.

But before he could set his foot down, Ian froze when he heard a sound from above their heads, sending dust and small clumps of dirt down on them as it slightly shook the wooden structure he was about to step on. Powell, who was directly behind him, instinctively reached out and grabbed his leader's arm, remembering what had happened the last time a subway had passed overhead. Once the subway was gone and nothing began to collapse, Ian took another deep breath to try to calm his pounding heart as he delicately placed his foot down on the first step, testing it before putting his full weight on it. When he saw that he didn't' fall through, Powell slowly released his grip on his arm.

After Ian had moved down a couple of stairs, testing each of his steps before he took them, he motioned for the others to slowly and carefully follow. Powell went first and then Nick, and the Scotsman walked sideways, keeping one hand outstretched toward Ian and the other toward the younger man behind him. Ben went after Nick with Riley behind him, and Phil brought up to rear to keep a watchful gaze on everyone ahead of him or to spot any approaching danger.

"Careful," Ian warned again from the front as the structure whined and protested beneath the weight of the six men. "Take your steps carefully."

"Do you think that anyone's been down here since we have?" Riley asked curiously, warily look at the wooden planks beneath his feet as he tested them. "I mean, since the discovery of the treasure and all…"

"I highly doubt it, Riley," Ben answered him as he slowly moved forward, keeping one hand on the wooden railing beside him. "I don't think many people would think about coming down here. And even if they did, I doubt that anyone would actually be bold enough to do it."

"Or stupid." Once the words were out of his mouth, the stair beneath Riley's foot collapsed, and he stumbled forward. Phil quickly reached out and grabbed the hood of his sweater to keep him from getting too close to the edge while the techie grabbed Ben's arm, and his best friend turned and held on to Riley's arms tightly to steady him. The rest of the line stopped and turned behind them to see what had happened, worry flaring in their eyes.

"I'm fine," Riley assured them while Phil and Ben released him as he tried to settle his breathing, but his face was pale, and he appeared to be very shaken up from the incident.

Soon, Ian had to stop walking when the walkway ended, a gaping hole separating him from the rest of the wooden structure that he knew he couldn't cross. He also knew that this had been the very spot where his friend had fallen…

_"Shaw! Oh, God, Shaw!"_

He tried unsuccessfully to block the memory of his own voice from his mind, and he slowly turned to face his five companions behind him. "All right, let's divide up to get on the elevators," he said quietly. "Nick and Powell, you come with me. Ben, Riley, and Phil will take the other." He then slipped off his backpack to search for the rope that he had packed.

"Wait a minute," Ben muttered as he surveyed the scene in front of him. "Weren't there only_ two_ elevators up here before?"

At the sound of the question, Ian slowly raised his gaze, and he saw that there truly was one more elevator than the two they had left years before, and the one that had mysteriously appeared had big, dark splotches soaked into it…

"That's not what I think it is, is it?" Riley wondered nervously, his voice raising an octave higher as he looked at the deep brown spots.

"I don't know, Riley," Ian replied quietly, swallowing nervously. "I'm just concerned about how it got up here to begin with."

"Maybe we were wrong and someone _has_ been down here," Powell suggested quietly.

But Ian wasn't entirely sure what to believe. That seemed to be the most logical conclusion, but his intuition was telling him otherwise. Then, he shook his head to dismiss the matter of the appearance of the third elevator. "Well, it doesn't matter. Let's just get down there so we can leave faster."

Powell and Nick nodded, immediately moving forward to help Ian pull one of the elevators in. Ben began digging around in his backpack for the rope he had brought, and Riley turned to Phil. "I say we don't take the ghost elevator," he said, smiling to try to add some dry humor into the situation.

Once the elevator was pulled in close enough to climb on, Ian cautiously stepped one foot on to the swinging, wooden platform. Seeing that it was still somewhat stable, he stepped completely on it and reached out his hand to Nick to help him step on it as well while Powell held it in place. Then, once they were both safely on it and holding on to the wooden railings, Powell stepped on to the elevator, almost losing his balance as it swung back over the seemingly bottomless pit beneath them. Ian reached out and grabbed his arm to hold him steady as the elevator creaked threateningly under their weight, all three of them staying very still until it slowly stopped swinging. Then, Powell cautiously joined them at the back of the elevator as Ian pulled him along. The English man released him once he was away from the edge and tied the rope securely around his waist before handing it to Nick to do the same and then to Powell before fastening it to the wooden railing of the elevator so they would at least be somewhat safer.

They watched as the three remaining members of their group did the same, Phil holding the elevator in place while Ben and Riley climbed on first before tying the rope around them and attaching it to the wooden railing after it stopped swinging and whining beneath the three of them.

"Ready?" Ian asked them. When he got confirming nods, he sighed. "All right. Go."

Powell began to turn the crank on their elevator while Phil did the same on the second one, and they slowly began their silent descent. Nick and Riley both clung to the wooden railings so tightly that their knuckles turned white, holding their breaths until they couldn't any longer before holding it again. Ben and Ian merely stared down at the approaching darkness with their flashlight beams aimed down into it, pale and expressionless.

After an agonizingly long time, the elevators finally hit the rocky bottom. The jolt of the sudden stop startled the group, and the heavy darkness closing in tightly around them only added to their already high anxiety. With the help of the shaking flashlight beams, they managed to untie the rope from around their waists with fumbling fingers, leaving it attached to the railing, before stepping off of the wooden elevators on to solid ground.

Ian and Ben waited patiently until the other four had their flashlights out and turned on, and then the English man turned to face the broad, round patch of ground that now lay around them. His heart quickened as his nerves rose, and he sighed heavily. "Well, there's only one thing to do now…"

He blinked in surprise when he felt a hand land on his shoulder, and Ian turned to see that Nick was at his side, giving him a smile to offer some reassurance. Powell was close by his left, and Ben, Riley, and Phil were right behind him. Though he was very concerned about the people he cared about, he was instantly glad that they had found him in time, that they were standing beside him now. No matter how much he didn't want to admit it, Ian knew that he could never have done this mission alone.

"Thank you," he whispered, knowing that he couldn't fully express his gratitude with only those two words. "All right, I'm ready. Let's go."

He knew that he had been in many situations that could truly be considered "hell" before, but Ian now fully realized that searching for the remains of his closest friend's body definitely deserved the title. With each step that he took, he felt as though his throat was constricting, his lungs were compressing… knowing what it was that they were soon going to find. He must have been out of his mind. He couldn't believe that he was actually going to these lengths just for one dagger…

An uncomfortable silence hung over the six men as they searched for any sign of what was once their former teammate. This task was difficult for them, but what made it even more difficult was seeing how hard Ian was taking it. Though he wasn't actually shedding a tear, they could see the devastating toll their search was taking on him by his step, his expression. But it was clearest in his distant eyes…

Suddenly, Riley gasped and staggered back into Ben as his flashlight fell and hit the hard ground, its beam landing on an object by his feet. Nick and Powell backed away from him toward Powell, unsure of what he had seen, while the techie gathered enough courage to breathe, "Is it him?"

Ben stepped from behind Riley's shaking form and knelt down in front of the skeleton that his best friend had nearly stepped on with his flashlight beam directed at it as he studied the skull. "No," he said after a long, tense moment, seeing that there were a couple more around the first one. "These bones are older than almost twenty years old. I'm not sure how old they are, but they're definitely not Shaw." He looked up when he heard a sigh above him, and he saw that Ian was looking over his shoulder at the skeletons. He could see both relief and disappointment on the English man's face when he saw that they had not found his best friend.

"Ian. You may want to see this…"

The group looked away from the bones when they heard the quiet, faltering voice, and they saw Nick standing a couple of feet away, his flashlight beam directed at some objects lying on the ground. Ian straightened up and slowly approached his stepbrother to see what he had found, and his eyes widened in horror when he saw what was under the flashlight beam.

The first item was a flashlight with the switch pointed at the "on" position, but the light bulb was burnt out and it had a shattered screen. The English man knew that it was one of the flashlights that he used to hand out to the members of his team when they had an operation…

The second item was a black gun that was coated with dirt and dust, but he would recognize it anywhere as Shaw's preferred, favorite weapon…

And the third was a brown, leather wallet with a faded gun imprint on it. Ian slowly knelt down and picked it up, filled with uncertainty, as he opened it with shaking hands.

The first thing he saw was Shaw glaring up at him from his driver's license picture. The English man's heart nearly stopped as he continued to look through it, seeing that it contained a few credit and membership cards, some receipts, and about ten dollars and twenty-three cents in cash. Three of his best friend's belongings were still down here, but the dagger was nowhere to be found…

"Are you all right, Ian?" Nick asked quietly, looking into his stepbrother's face with worry showing through his own grave expression.

"I'm fine." It had taken Ian a long time to answer that normally simple question since he had to force himself to say something other than what he was actually feeling. In truth, he was far from fine. But then, he slid his backpack off and opened it, slipping the broken flashlight, gun, and wallet into it. "Let's keep going."

They joined the rest of the group then, but after searching the entire area at least twice, their search came up empty. They had found no trace of Shaw, except for his few belongings.

"I don't understand it," Powell muttered, looking everywhere around him at the spacious area. "He fell. There was only one place he could have gone, which is where we're standing."

Ben shook his head. "I don't get it either," he agreed thoughtfully. "Something must have happened to him…"

"Is it possible that someone might have moved him if they found him?" Riley asked quietly, trying to think of any and all possibilities.

"I'm sure there was no one down here after we were, Riley," Ben answered irritably since tensions were running high. "Besides, who would want to move a dead body?"

Riley shrugged, feeling irritable as well at the older man. "I don't know. But someone _must _have been down here, Ben, because there was that third elevator-!"

"It doesn't matter!" Ben snapped at the techie. "I don't know what in the world happened to Shaw's body, but I _do _know for sure that there has to be a logical explanation for it. _No_ one could have survived that fall!"

_No one could have survived that fall…_

The words echoed again in Ian's mind as his eyes traveled above him to the wooden structure. He hadn't really realized before that moment how far the drop really was. For a moment, he wondered how long it had taken Shaw to fall the entire distance. A few seconds? Almost a minute? He knew that he would never know…

But at that moment, all he wanted to do was to leave. They hadn't found what they had come for, and he didn't want to spend any more time there than he had to. "All right, guys," he muttered, turning away from his friends to hide the feeling of tears creeping into his eyes. "There's nothing here. Let's start heading back up."

* * *

All of the pain… all of the suffering… for nothing. He had made one of the hardest decisions that he had ever had to make in his life… and it had been for nothing.

Ian sighed heavily as he laid back against the pillow on the bed in their rented hotel room, merely staring up at the ceiling that was softly illuminated by the moonlight filtering in from outside. He was alone in the bedroom since the rest of his group had decided to stay in the living room- Nick sleeping on the couch and Riley and Ben curled up in the armchairs while Phil and Powell just took the floor… all physically and emotionally drained from the difficult events of that day. They were lucky that they were able to sleep…

Twenty years… It had almost been twenty years since Shaw had fallen in Trinity Church, and Ian had felt as though he could handle searching for him. After all, it had all happened so suddenly and so fast that he hadn't had the chance to even say goodbye, and finding his right-hand man would have provided some closure for his death so that it would allow him to be at peace with what had happened.

But he hadn't even been granted that. Now, Ian felt that the hole that had been inside of him when Shaw had died was expanding and eating away at him since he still wasn't able to accept his closest friend's fate, especially since he didn't know where his body was. There was no closure, no finality…

And to make the situation even worse, he still had not found the dagger, which had been the main reason that he had returned to Trinity Church… It had been his final option, and the dagger had not been there. Now, he was unsure if he would be able to stop his father's insane mission…

Ian nearly cried out in frustration as all of the emotions he had been feeling beneath Trinity Church finally caught up with him and were released, but he restrained it since he didn't want to wake anyone else and have them worry about him. Instead, a quiet, dry sob escaped from him, and a couple of tears finally snuck out from behind his closed eyes.

* * *

Richard Howe sat behind his desk in his study, immediately lighting a cigarette. It had been a long couple of days, but at least he was finally finished with making all of his travel plans to go back to Transylvania. He figured that it was a good place to begin his journey, and he would continue on from there.

But as he looked around the room, lit only by the rays of the early morning sunlight, he couldn't help but feel that something was out of place. Richard quickly took a set of keys out of his pocket and stuck one into the lock on the drawer of the desk where he kept his most precious findings and pulled it open.

The journal of his ancestor that he had found on an earlier trip to Transylvania was gone.

Richard smiled a little as he laughed to himself and shook his head, closing the drawer again. He recognized his son's work since he had taught him everything he knew about running illegal operations since he had been a boy. "Well done, Ian," he muttered to himself. "Well done. I see the game that you are playing. Well, I accept your challenge. Just do not forget who you are playing against."

**A/N**: Well, that's it! Sad and tense, huh? Not to mention a foreboding ending there… But, I still hope you enjoyed this chapter, and this radically new idea lived up to your expectations. Let me know! Thanks for reading! Your reviews are much appreciated. Thank you!


	9. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer**: Everyone you recognize, I don't own. I only own Clara and Nick.

**Author's Note**: (Looks at reader's nervously). Um... I know it's been a LONG time, guys, and I'm SO sorry about that. This whole starting college and real life stuff has been keeping me very busy. But thanks to some help from **Halo**, we've gotten a hold of this story again and are back in business. I promise, this will be finished. There's too many awesome stuff coming up we have planned for you guys to let it be abandoned. So, it will not, and there won't be as long of a gap between updates again. So, thank you for those who are sticking with me! I really appreciate it. But since it's been so long, let's recap what's happened up until this point!

_Little Ian Howe_: "I was so scared. I couldn't tell who anyone was."

_Richard Howe_: "Well, Son. That's the point of a masquerade, to hide your true self from the world."

_Little Ian_: "But why would you want to pretend to be an evil monster like Dracula?"

_Richard_: "Even Count Dracula was once a gentleman."

* * *

_Ian Howe_: "Target codename: Blondie is in sight."

_Nick Baron_: "Do you think Clara will be mad if she finds out we were spying on her at her first dance?"

_Ian_: "We have to see how this Jasper kid treats her. If he doesn't treat her right, well... use your imagination."

* * *

_Ben Gates_: "I'm not going to do it anymore, Abigail. I'm through. I'm tired of putting everyone else's lives in danger, and I want to spend time with you and Clara before that time is gone."

_Abigail Gates_: "Does this mean our lives will be returning to normal?"

_Ben_: "Yes. I promise you, Abigail, no more treasure hunts. My life is now devoted to my family."

* * *

_Ian_: "Hello?"

_Richard _(over phone): _"Listen, I need you to come home as soon as you can. I have something important here that I think you would like to see."_

* * *

_Ian_: "All right, so you found an incomplete journal, and you don't know what happened with the conflict with Dracula. What does that have to do with me?"

_Richard_: "This journal can give us every clue we need to find this mirror and prove once and for all who Dracula really was!"

_Ian_: "No. I will not help you. This is something that is out of our control."

_Richard_: "Good help is hard to find these days. There was one time years ago where I sent three of my... _hired hands_, per se, to speak with you about a matter I needed to get cleared up with you while you were still here in England. But, it turns out you were out of the country at the time, and they ran into Nick instead."

_Ian_: "Because of their mistake, they almost killed Nick! He was lucky that Shaw found him in time!"

_Richard: _"I know you've never had that problem with Shaw, and I must say that I envy you. If Shaw was still alive, I would recruit him to help me with this hunt."

_Ian_: "He wouldn't help you either since I'm not going to."

_Richard_: "Be careful, Ian. It's a dangerous dance you're stepping into."

* * *

_Nick_: "What's wrong, Ian? What happened in England?"

* * *

_Ian_: "Powell, do you happen to remember seeing a dagger with an emerald handle that Shaw and I had years ago anywhere?"

_Powell_: "I don't remember when I saw it last. Why are you asking about it now?"

_Ian_: "I'm just curious, that's all."

* * *

_Clara Gates_: "Why do you have so much garlic?"

_Lucy Harker_: "It's for protection against evil forces."

_Clara_: "Protection? Against what kind of evil?"

* * *

_Phil_: "Do you realize what you just said?"

_Powell_ (on phone): "Ian, it's Powell. We're just a little concerned that we can't get a hold of you, and we're hoping that everything's okay. But my main reason for calling is that I remember the last time I saw that dagger you asked me about now... Shaw had it."

* * *

_Phil_: "I've had it. We need to go find him. This has gone on long enough. It's time for us to go after him."

_Powell_: "I agree with you, Phil, but where do you propose we start?"

* * *

_Phil_ (over phone): _"Ben, we need you. We have a problem. Ian's missing."_

* * *

_Nick_: "There would be times where he would just have to get away from everything and handle something important on his own."

_Ben_: "So, did Ian say anything before he left that could give you a clue as to where he went?"

_Powell_: "Well... there was one thing. There was this special dagger that Ian and Shaw had for years. Ian asked me the day after he came back from England if I remembered where I had last seen it since no one has seen it for years."

_Ben_: "Do you remember where you last saw it now?"

_Powell_: "Unfortunately... yes. Shortly before we left for _The Charlotte_, Shaw grabbed the dagger and took it with him."

_Riley Poole_: "You have _got_ to be kidding me..."

_Ben_: "But you don't think that Ian would _really _go there, do you?"

* * *

_Ian sitting pensive in Trinity Church..._

_Ian_: "How did you find me?"

_Powell_: "Let's just say that we know you too well, Ian."

_Ian_: "You shouldn't have come. None of you should be here."

_Phil_: "We already lost Shaw to this place, Ian, we're not going to risk losing you too. We're going with you."

* * *

_Ian_: "I was prepared for it, Nick. I was ready to face it..."

* * *

_Under Trinity Church..._

_Riley_: "Do you think that anyone's been down here since we have?"

_Ben_: "Wait a minute. Weren't there only _two_ elevators up here before?"

_Powell_: "Maybe we were wrong and someone _has _been down here."

* * *

_Riley_: "Is it him?"

_Ben_: "No. These bones are older than almost twenty years old. I'm not sure how old they are, but they're definitely not Shaw.

_Powell_: "I don't understand it. He fell. There was only one place he could have gone, which is where we're standing."

_Ben_: "I don't know what in the world happened to Shaw's body, but I _do_ know for sure that there has to be a logical explanation for it. _No_ one could have survived that fall!"

_Ian_: "There's nothing here. Let's start heading back up."

* * *

_Richard_: "Well done, Ian. Well done. I see the game that you are playing. Well, I accept your challenge. Just do not forget who you are playing against."

* * *

_Ian lying on the bed in his dark hotel room, a couple of tears escaping from behind his closed eyes... _

Chapter 8

_"I don't know if I want to keep playing, Dad."_

_"Why not, Son?"_

_"You always beat me. It's not fun if you're the one who always wins."_

_Richard laughed as he set up his black chess pieces on his side of the board while Ian set up his white ones again after they completed a game. "How do you expect to get any better if you don't practice, Ian?" he asked. "Come, I'm sure that your chances of beating me will be better the more you work at it."_

And he had been right. As Ian grew older, his odds of beating Richard in a game of chess grew along with him. He went from never being able to win when he was ten until the odds went to about 60/40 when he was in his mid-twenties, still in his father's favor. It was very close, and even though Richard always seemed to be one step ahead of him, Ian could at times pull ahead and defeat him. This was particularly the case if he used a move or strategy that Richard had not been expecting that he couldn't recover from if he was confident that he would win.

Ian slowly opened his eyes when the bright sunlight hit them, brought out of his memories. He glanced at the electric clock on the nightstand beside him, seeing that it was almost ten in the morning. Sighing, he slowly sat up and pushed himself off the bed, rubbing his tired eyes as he stretched. He hadn't gotten much sleep the previous night, and if he did happen to doze off, it had only been for a short period of time since his mind had been plagued by memories of Shaw and his father. Ian knew that it was going to be a long drive back to the D.C. area...

The Englishman then opened the door of the bedroom in their hotel room, startled to see that Nick was standing right on the other side of it, his hand raised since he had been prepared to knock. "Oh, sorry about that, Ian," the younger man said with a slight laugh. "I was just going to see if you were awake. The guys were wondering if you wanted to go with us down to the lobby to get something to eat. Or we can go out to eat somewhere, it really doesn't matter to us."

"I like the second option better," Ian replied with a slight smile. "You know how I feel about hotel food."

Nick smiled as he nodded and laughed a little. "Yeah, I know you're not too fond of it," he muttered.

Ian chuckled quietly at little at the understatement, though it was only a half-hearted attempt. Then, he looked his stepbrother over carefully. "It looks like you slept all right," he commented.

"I slept okay," Nick corrected, and Ian could see the slight redness in his eyes from not getting quite enough sleep. But he knew he must have gotten more than the older man did. "Sleeping on the couch wasn't too bad." He paused when he heard laughter from the living area of the hotel room that he recognized to be Powell's at his statement, but he ignored it even though Ian looked confused.

The rest of the morning passed quickly. The group of six packed everything up, made sure that everything in the room was as nice as when they had found it before signing out of the hotel, and they finally headed out toward the parking lot. Ian pulled his keys out of the pocket of his leather jacket and unlocked the black SUV, but before he could open the driver's door, a hand landed on his arm to stop him.

"No way, Ian," Powell said, his tone as stern as his expression. "You haven't slept well for God knows how long, and you've had a couple of emotionally trying days. You're exhausted. Give me the keys. I'm driving."

Before Ian could even begin to protest, the older Scotsman took the keys from his loose grasp and climbed in behind the wheel, adjusting the seat before putting on his seatbelt. Seeing no other option, the blond man sighed with defeat and walked around the SUV, climbing into the passenger seat beside Powell. He quickly and silently put his seatbelt on before laying his forehead against the window. He sighed wearily, the cool temperature granting a reprieve from his clouded mind. Powell looked at him for a long moment with concern before his eyes moved to the side-mirror to see that Nick and Phil were still talking with Ben and Riley.

Once they were finished, Nick and Powell climbed into the backseat once they saw Ian was occupying the younger blond man's typical seat. "We're going to meet them at Hard Rock Cafe," Phil told Powell, who started the SUV as the other man handed him a slip of paper. "Just follow these directions."

Nick kept his eyes on Ian carefully, knowing that something was definitely wrong. He wondered why the Englishman would suffer through trying to find Shaw, and not even find him, just for a dagger that he couldn't find but had once owned. He wasn't sure the motive behind his radical decision, but he was determined to find out.

Lunch at Hard Rock Cafe went well. The six men were seated at a round booth in the corner of the restaurant, bombarded by the loud sounds of classic rock music blaring from the speakers as well as the laughter and conversations from the people around them. They looked at the pictures of old records hanging on the walls, ranging from The Beatles to The Rolling Stones, feeling somewhat relaxed from the amount of distraction the place had to offer after the difficulty of the day before.

After they chose what they wanted from the menus, ordered from their overly friendly waitress, and she walked away to give the five menus and orders to the kitchen, Nick, Powell, and Phil exchanged looks with each other. "All right, Ian," the youngest of the three said, confronting his stepbrother. "You have to tell us what's happening. Why did you want to go find Shaw? What is so important about that dagger you used to have when you haven't even seen it for years?"

Ian looked back at Nick for a long moment, internally debating how much he should reveal since he knew how much of a threat his father could be. But when he saw Powell, Phil, Ben, and Riley were looking at him with as much intensity as Nick, he knew he had no choice. They had him cornered. "You... you want to know everything?" he asked quietly.

"Every detail," Powell confirmed with a nod, how unsure their fearless leader seemed to be not escaping his notice. "After everything that's happened, I think we deserve some answers. You've been acting so strange, and we've been so worried about you."

The Englishman sighed as he ran his hand through his blond hair. Clearly, he was still stressed out about the whole situation. "All right," he muttered, though it was against his better judgement to get his friends involved in his personal matters. "It began when I took that trip to England on the night of Clara's play. I... I had gotten a call from my father, who still lives there, and he wanted me to go home so he could show me something. It was strange because we normally just keep in contact over the phone, never in person."

Ian paused for a moment, seeing that Nick had shifted uncomfortably. As he watched his stepbrother, he could see that the younger man was suddenly very on edge at the mention of Richard Howe, certainly because of the past history he had with the man and the fact that Ian had kept this information from him. His gaze faltered slightly as he tried to meet the younger man's eyes, but Nick kept averting his gaze. The Englishman sighed with defeat when he couldn't catch his eye, and he decided to continue on.

"What he showed me is a journal that belonged to one of my ancestors that documents one of the greatest struggles in Europe in the Transylvania area. He mysteriously disappeared, and this was the only thing that was left of him.

"My father wanted me to help him find something that is most likely still in Transylvania. It's a special hand mirror that belonged to Count Dracula that contains the souls of the victims that he tortured and killed as a vampire, if you believe in that legend, anyway."

"Wait. Count Dracula?" Riley asked, startled. "You mean _the_ Count Dracula?"

Ian simply nodded, but he didn't have tome to answer further because their waitress came with their meals. After she gave each of the men their correct orders and walked away to help another table, he continued with his explanation. "The mirror belongs in a pair of artifacts, the second being the dagger that I have been trying to find. I know that it was in my possession last, but I have searched every place that it could possibly be. The importance of it is Dracula's restless, undead soul will be brought out by its presence, according to the legend my father told me."

And so the story continued as Ian finished retelling the conversation he had with his father, leaving out the part about him being responsible for the attack on Nick years before. He sighed when he saw the looks of shock and disbelief on his friends' faces, knowing that the story truly was unbelievable.

"So, your father basically wanted you to help him find this mirror so that you can uncover the secret of Dracula?" Phil finally asked, making sure he had all of the information straight.

"That is what he wanted, Powell, yes," Ian answered with a slight nod. "But I told him that I wouldn't. Even if the legend of Dracula being pulled from the mirror isn't true, which I don't think it is, there are still too many risks involved. But, my father is too stubborn, and he is going to try to find it anyway. That's why I have to stop him and find that mirror before he does."

"Not alone, you're not," Phil spoke up. "Now that we understand what's going on, we're going to help you."

"We're your friends, Ian," Nick added, meeting his stepbrother's gaze for the first time since the mention of Richard. "You said yourself that there are too many risks involved. We're not going to let you face that on your own."

Ian nodded, but he was still unconvinced. He hated risking the lives of the people close to him, especially since this was the most dangerous hunt they had to face yet. His friends had no idea what they were getting themselves into by wanting to help him.

"We'll help you too," Ben suddenly muttered.

Riley looked at him with shock. "We will?" he asked nervously. "Ben, what about Abi-!"

"I know," Ben interrupted with slight annoyance. "I know I promised Abigail, but this is important. Don't worry, Riley. I'll take care of it."

* * *

"What do you mean you're going on a treasure hunt to Transylvania?" Abigail demanded angrily. "Ben, you promised-!"

"I know, Abigail," Ben cut in, trying to be as patient as possible with the situation at hand. "I know I said that I wouldn't go on another treasure hunt, but this is different."

"How?" Abigail snapped. "Explain to me, Benjamin Gates, how you going with the same group of guys you usually go with to find some hidden object of great value _isn't_ like all of the other hunts you've been on."

Ben sighed as he looked at his furious wife, not able to give her an answer. The more he thought about it, all of the major hunts he had been on had some sort of moral cause- to clear his family's name, to find what Riley's father had left behind for him, to save the world, and finally, to stop Ian's father from releasing one of history's darkest evils. So, instead of giving her an answer, Ben took a step forward and hugged Abigail tightly.

"I'm sorry, Abigail," he whispered.

But Abigail sighed as she backed away from him, looking away from Ben as she shook her head with disappointment.

"I want to go to Transylvania."

Both Ben and Abigail spun to face the staircase when Clara came down it. "I'm not going for fun, Clara..." Ben slowly began, able to see by his wife's expression she wished he wasn't going at all.

"I know," Clara interrupted, stopping before her parents. "I heard you telling Mom about what hunt you're going on, and I want to help Uncle Ian."

"No!" Abigail protested, her abruptness catching Clara off guard. "There is _no_ way that you are going on this hunt, young lady, and that is my final word!"

Surprisingly, for the first time that she could really remember, Clara fought back. "Mom, I don't care if you don't want to help him, but _I'm _going to help Uncle Ian!" she snapped. "And there's nothing you can do to change my mind."

"Oh, you had better believe there is," Abigail told her fiercely. "If you do _one_ thing that has anything to do with this hunt, you are grounded!"

Ben raised an eyebrow. Abigail had never grounded Clara before. Unfortunately, their daughter had inherited Abigail's fiery personality and his spirit of adventure, which was _not_ a good combination in this situation.

"I'm sorry, Mom," Clara muttered with a thin line of tears in her eyes. "But I have to do what I think is right." Then, she turned her back on her parents and opened the front door, stepping outside before slamming it behind her.

Abigail rushed to the door and threw it open. "Clara, get back here right now!" she shouted after her, watching as she hurried along the long driveway away from the house. "Don't you _dare_ walk away from me! Clara!" Then, she sighed as she turned to her husband. "Don't just stand there, Ben! She's your daughter too. Go after her!"

But Ben only sighed. "I don't think I can do anything, Abigail," he told her calmly. "She's too stubborn. I don't think anything I can say can change her mind."

"I can't believe you," Abigail muttered, slamming the door again. "You know what? Fine. Take back your word and go on this hunt. I don't care. Just know to never make another promise to me involving treasure again."

* * *

Clara could feel tears burning in her eyes as she hurried away from the house, beginning to walk aimlessly down the sidewalk. Where would she go? She wasn't sure, but all she wanted to do was get away from her parents, especially her mother. At least for a little while until things cooled down. She didn't understand what was so wrong about wanting to help her uncle. It was a virtue that had always been drilled into her growing up...

Then, she stopped when a black SUV pulled up beside her, and Clara smiled when the window rolled down and revealed the driver. "Where are you headed, cutie?" Nick asked with a smile of his own. "Need a lift?"

"Thanks, Uncle Nick." Clara opened the passenger door and climbed in, shutting it again behind her and putting on her seatbelt. "I'm not really sure where I'm going, actually."

"Okay, then," Nick muttered as he began to drive again, concerned when he watched her wipe tears from her eyes. "Are you all right?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," Clara said, though she knew her uncle could tell that wasn't entirely true. "I just got in a big fight with my mom..."

Nick sighed as he came to a stop at a red light. "Do you want to talk about it?" he wondered.

Clara thought about her answer for a long moment before she slowly nodded.

"Whenever you're ready." Nick pulled away from the light when it turned green, soon noticing an ice cream stand in front of the park. "This should make you feel better, cutie."

Clara watched curiously as Nick pulled over and shut the car off. "What?"

"Come on." Nick climbed out of the car and walked over to the other side, and Clara followed after him. Once she joined him, Nick locked up the SUV and walked over to the ice cream stand, buying two strawberry shortcake bars. Giving one to Clara, he led her toward the park's entrance.

"Thank you, Uncle Nick," Clara said as she threw her wrapper in the nearest garbage can.

"Of course," Nick replied as he did the same. "Anything to help."

Clara smiled as they walked down the path, watching as kids chased each other or played with jump ropes, as young couples rollerbladed past them, and as an elderly woman fed pigeons from a park bench. It was all so peaceful.

"It was about Uncle Ian going to Transylvania," she suddenly muttered.

"What was?" Nick asked. "Your fight?"

Clara nodded. "Yeah, I want to help. Mom's mad because Daddy said he wouldn't go on another treasure hunt, and he's going..."

Nick sighed as they slowed to a stop in front of a fountain. "And let me guess. You want to come along too."

"Yes."

"I don't know if that would be such a good idea, Clara," Nick cautioned.

"Why?" Clara asked, confused. "It's just like our other hunts we've been on, isn't it?"

"No, not exactly," Nick answered. "It's going to be dangerous."

"So, going to Russia to stop a mad man wasn't dangerous?"

"Look, Clara." Nick sighed again, hoping not to get frustrated. "This is something that Ian didn't even want _us_ to get involved with, and we go on all of his missions. I don't think that you should come along."

"You can't stop me, Uncle Nick," Clara muttered. "I've been on dangerous missions before. I want to help Uncle Ian."

Nick looked back at her for a long moment, realizing that no matter what he said, it wouldn't change her mind. She was too stubborn. "All right. Just know that _if _you come along, you're staying in our sights the entire time."

"You mean _when_," Clara corrected. "But what makes this so much more dangerous than any other mission?"

Nick sighed. It was amazing how close their situations actually were. He knew that Clara and Abigail would get past their fight, but he also realized that he would have to start getting past his grudges against Richard Howe. After all, though they were trying to stop him, they might have had to work with him a little in order to do that.

"The difference is who we're working against, Clara," he finally told her. "It's Ian's father."

* * *

_28 June- This is my last meeting with Count Dracula to form an agreement to bring an end to this dreadful battle. He appears pleasant, but each time I am invited to his home, I get a strange chill. There is an unnatural aura in this place. I feel that there is more to this man than meets the eye. I fear that this may be my last entry. Oh, help my soul, Oh God above!_

Ian sighed as he shut the worn-out journal and ran his hand through his hair before rubbing his tired eyes. He had spent the past couple of hours going through the old book to look for any clues as to how he could stop his father or at least find Dracula's mirror before he did. But so far, he had found nothing, other than the fact that a good place to start would be the castle where Dracula lived.

The Englishman then set the journal on the bed next to him, putting his face in his hand. The next morning, he and his friends, who he was still reluctant to bring along, were to be leaving for Transylvania. He knew he would have to get some rest if he wanted his mind at its sharpest since this time, they would be against a man who he wasn't quite on equal footing with. That alone was what made this hunt the most dangerous they had ever been on since he knew what the man was capable of.

But he wasn't sure he would be able to rest that night. Not with the thoughts plaguing his mind. Ian glanced at the three items sitting on the nightstand in between his bed and Nick's- the broken flashlight, the gun, and the wallet. He picked up the third item, cautiously opening it for the second time since he had found it. His gaze faltered as he looked down at Shaw's dark, glaring eyes. It had been painful enough to lose him, but even more painful not to find him after so many years.

"I'm sorry, Shaw..."

Then, Ian looked up when he heard a timid knock on the door, quickly closing the wallet and setting it back on the nightstand just as the door opened. He smiled slightly when he saw his stepbrother come into the room. "Hello, Nick."

"Hey." Nick glanced at the dark room, not bothering to turn the light on since he figured the older man had left it off intentionally. "Just dropped Clara off at home."

Ian nodded. "That's good," he muttered without much feeling.

Nick sat down on his bed across from Ian's, noticing how different he looked. The confidence and determination that usually rolled off of him in waves just weren't there. "Are you all right, Ian?" he asked.

Despite how he was feeling, Ian gave him another small but half-hearted smile. "I'm tired, Nick," he answered quietly. "I'm worn down from this life of hunting. I can't do it anymore. It has cost me my best friend, and it almost took you from me too. After this mission, I'm through."

"What are you going to do?" The question was quiet, almost apprehensive, as Nick looked back at his stepbrother.

"I'll probably move back to England and live out in the country somewhere," Ian told him, his gaze distant as though he was picturing it. "I'm ready to just leave everything behind me."

Nick's gaze faltered, definitely concerned about the other man now. It seemed he had given this idea a lot of thought. "Ian..."

But Ian shook his head. "You have many opportunities ahead of you yet, Nick," he muttered. "Don't feel obligated to me."

Not knowing what else to say, Nick sighed as he lowered his gaze. He knew what they had been through the past few days had taken its toll on Ian, but he hadn't realized just how much until now. It was then he saw just how world-weary and exhausted he looked.

Ian studied the younger man's face carefully. "What's on your mind?"

Nick glanced back up at him. He didn't want to burden Ian's mind more than it already was. "Nothing to worry about," he tried to assure him.

But Ian wasn't convinced. "Clearly it's enough to bother you," he retorted. "You can tell me."

Running his hand through his hair, Nick took a deep breath. "I've just been thinking... about how we may have to work with Richard..."

Ian worried his bottom lip between his teeth. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you he was involved sooner, Nick..." he began.

"Don't be. I understand why you didn't. It's not like I've ever gotten along well with the man." Nick paused for a moment. "But after talking to Clara earlier, I do realize that I need to try to get past all that. And that's what I'm going to try to do. We don't want to make the situation any harder if we have to work with him."

It was then Ian remembered what else his father had told him when he had gone back home, wishing he never had. "I don't think that would even be worth the effort, Nick," he muttered.

"What do you mean, Ian?" Nick wondered.

Ian got to his feet, not answering immediately as he walked over to the window to look out at the setting sun. He waited for a moment longer before deciding on his answer. "Don't even bother wasting your time," he told him, not looking back at the younger man. "Not after what happened to you. I'm sure you remember the incident where Shaw saved you when I wasn't home."

Nick froze. He remembered that night clearly. He had been walking home when he was suddenly ambushed by three men who called him Ian before they beat him when he didn't confirm his identity. The worst part about that night for him was they had wanted his stepbrother. At least he had been able to spare him from that.

"What... what about it?" Nick slowly got to his feet but knew better than to approach him.

Ian's hands clenched so tightly on the windowsill his knuckles turned white. "I know they wanted to get to me, and for that, you have no idea how sorry I am," Ian said, his gaze still on the growing darkness outside. "And now I know, though I still can't believe it, that my father was the one who sent them. You don't have to get past anything with him, Nick, since this is something I can't get past."

"I know."

The Englishman had not been expecting that response. He slowly looked over his shoulder at the blond man not able to mask his surprise. "You knew?" he repeated.

Nick nodded, taking a couple of steps closer to him. "They said Richard was the one who sent them to look for Ian," he confirmed.

Ian looked at his stepbrother in shock. "Why didn't you say anything?" he asked quietly. "Nick?"

"I know how close you and your father are," Nick answered, some defeat in his eyes. "If I couldn't tell you that he was the one who..." His sentence trailed off, not able to say how Ian's own father had been the one who sent the man to hurt his son.

_"How close we _were_..." _Ian mentally clarified.

A long moment of silence passed between them. Ian finally sighed and lowered his gaze, still unable to say anything. Nick had known who was behind his attack all along. But that still didn't answer the question of what his father had wanted or the reason behind the violent act his henchmen had done that had been meant for him.

"We're going to get something to eat," Nick finally muttered to break the tension. "Do you want anything, Ian?"

The older man met his gaze. "No thanks, Nick," he told him just as quietly. "I'll just have something here when I feel like it later."

"Are you sure?"

"I am," Ian confirmed with a nod and a slight smile for reassurance.

Nick sighed. "All right, if you're sure," he said. "I'll see you later."

Ian said nothing in response as his stepbrother left the room again. As soon as the door shut behind him, he was once again left alone with his thoughts.

**Author's Note**: So, some questions have been answered here, but there are still many left unanswered. Never fear, they all will be answered. The joke about the couch (which is why it's funny to Powell) is a few chapters back. And hopefully, this sort of recap chapter has us all up to speed. Again, I apologize for such a long wait! Hope to see some of you back! Thanks for reading! Your reviews are much appreciated. Thank you!


	10. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer**: I own nothing from National Treasure.

**Author's Note**: Sorry for the bit of a wait. Thanks for the reviews, even though I took forever. My bad, lol. Anyway, enjoy the next chapter!

_Chapter 9_

"I just don't know what to do, Emily," Abigail muttered with a sigh as she leaned back against the head of her bed, her cell phone held tightly to her ear. Clara had come home a short time ago, calmed down a bit from their earlier argument but still not talking much to her since she had gone straight to her room. "I can't let Clara go on this hunt. Ben shouldn't even be going. He said he was done with that."

_"Ah. So Ben made you the promise of no more treasure hunting, did he?"_ Emily said from the other end. _"I remember when Patrick said the same thing when Ben was young. He didn't hold to it, of course, at least not to start. That's when I left."_

Abigail sighed. "Yeah, but I don't think that's what I should do," she replied, brushing some of her blonde hair back from her face. "I don't know, Emily. He just wants to help a friend. I probably overreacted."

_"Ben is a smart young man. I'm sure he's just doing what he thinks is right, my dear," _Emily told her. _"Promise or not, I don't think you'll be able to change his mind. And I'm sure you didn't overreact about Clara."_

Anger and determination suddenly renewed, Abigail shook her head even though she knew the older woman couldn't see the action. "No, definitely not," she agreed. "I know Ben can take care of himself, and I know I can't convince him not to go. But Clara... I can't let her go along. But now she's not talking to me. I don't want to be her enemy."

_"Sometimes you have to do what's best for her," _Emily said. _"And if this hunt is as dangerous as you're afraid it is, you did the right thing."_

Abigail sighed. "Something tells me no matter what I do, she won't listen to me, Emily," she muttered. "I don't want to push her so much that she hates me, but I feel I can't let her go on this one."

_"Well, she takes after her father in that way, I'm afraid." _Emily chuckled quietly. _"But you know what they say, my dear. If you can't beat them, join them."_

A thin line of tears formed in Abigail's eyes. She glanced at a picture on the nightstand next to the bed of her, Ben, and Clara on their trip to the Grand Canyon over summer vacation the previous year. They had matching smiles on their faces, all looking so happy...

That was when she made up her mind.

"Thank you, Emily."

xxx

Clara sighed as she zipped up her bag and set it on the end of her bed. She was glad to be all finished packing that night since she knew her dad would want to be leaving early the next morning. She still wasn't completely sure how she had been able to convince him to let her go along on this trip before he left for dinner with Riley, but all that mattered to her was she was going to Transylvania to help Ian. As long as she stayed in their sights at all times, of course.

She sat down on the bed with a sigh, tying her light blond hair behind her head in a loose ponytail. Her talk with Nick hadn't made her feel much better about going, especially since he seemed slightly nervous about who they would be meeting up with at some point. Ian's father. She wondered how bad of a man he was if even Ian hadn't wanted them to go. Surely he was nothing like her uncle.

Then, Clara gasped quietly when something quietly rattled her window. She listened intently to see if she would hear it again, and when she did, she got to her feet and cautiously pushed the blinds aside to look outside.

Her eyes widened with surprise at first, but then a smile appeared on her face as she waved at the black-haired boy standing in her yard. Clara left her room, seeing Abigail was occupied on the phone in her room as she snuck past and hurried down the stairs and out into the night. Her visitor ran to meet her halfway when he saw her come outside, quickly wrapping her up in a hug.

"Jasper, what are you doing here?" she asked when he pulled away from her, pleasantly surprised to see her boyfriend.

"I got your text," Jasper answered, slight nervousness slipping through in his accented tone. "You're going to Transylvania?"

"Yeah, I'm going tomorrow with my dad and uncles," Clara said, feeling a bit nervous herself at his tone. "Why, what's wrong?"

The older boy rand his hand through his dark hair. "Nothing," he replied quietly. "Just... just promise me you'll be careful. I'm not saying I believe the old legends, but it's said a lot happens over there. Restless evil from all the bad things that have occurred there."

Clara bit her bottom lip. "I'll be okay," she muttered. "I won't be alone even once. I promise."

Jasper noticeably seemed to relax at her words as he brushed a couple loose strands of her blonde hair back from her face. "Here. My grandmother wanted me to give this to you."

Curious, Clara watched as Jasper pulled something out of his sweatshirt pocket and placed it in her palm. It was a wooden cross necklace. Recalling all the legends she knew that originated in Transylvania, it was a fitting gift.

"Thank you, Jasper." Clara put it around her neck right away. Regardless, she was going to keep it close to her at all times.

Jasper sighed as he nodded slightly, leaning down and leaving a kiss on her cheek. Clara stopped him from moving too far back, kissing him once softly on the lips. She smiled slightly, realizing she had just had her first kiss. She just wished it could have been under better circumstances.

But a thin line of tears formed in her eyes as Jasper wrapped his arms around her again, holding onto him tightly as she rested her head on his shoulder.

Just how dangerous was this hunt going to be?

xxx

Ben sighed as he drove away from the restaurant he and Riley had just eaten at, heading in the direction of his best friend's apartment. They figured with what they had to do the next day, they deserved some time to relax.

"So, do you think Abi has calmed down enough after you told her you're going on another hunt?" Riley asked.

"Maybe," Ben answered with a sigh. "She'll eventually be all right with me going. It's Clara going that really set her off."

Riley rolled his eyes. "Well, yeah. I mean just look at what we're doing," he pointed out.

Ben couldn't argue that. Not only were they going to a place where many of history's darkest stories originated from, but the man they had to try to stop sounded just as dangerous in his own right.

"Do you think Ian learned everything about... well, being Ian, from his dad?" Riley continued to wonder as though he could read his thoughts.

"I wouldn't doubt it, Riley," Ben muttered. "Why else would Ian have not wanted us to go with him?"

"Great." Riley sighed. "Two Ians. That's exactly what we need." Ben even smiled at that comment.

Soon, Ben pulled up in front of Riley's apartment building and shut the car off. Riley climbed out of the passenger seat while Ben got out as well, stopping in front of the door of the tall building. "I'll see you bright and early tomorrow, Riley," he said. "Be ready for a long flight."

Riley nodded. "Right. Bright and early. On the way to the airport." He paused for a minute. "Not so sure how I feel about this whole going to Transylvania thing..."

Ben sighed as he placed his hand on the shoulder of his nervous best friend. "Come on, Riley. I really need you with me on this one."

But Riley gave him a wide, forced smile. "You don't even really realize what we're doing, do you?" he posed. "Just stop and think for once, Ben. We are dealing with a crazy man who is the inspiration for the story of the lord of vampires. What could _possibly_ go wrong?"

The treasure hunter looked startled by the rebuttal. "Riley..."

"But I'll come anyway," the techie cut in, unable to completely hide the anxiety he felt. "See you tomorrow, Ben."

Ben shook his head slightly as he watched Riley walk into the apartment building. He knew this hunt was going to be their most dangerous since they were also facing the unknown. Aside from the unpredictability of facing Ian's father, they also weren't sure what was awaiting them in Transylvania.

Forcing his own anxieties aside, Ben got back behind the wheel of his car and started it. He turned the radio all the way down, the music more of a distraction to him at the moment, as he headed for home.

xxx

Richard finished packing up his bags, ensuring he had everything he needed for his upcoming flight to Transylvania. Once it seemed he did, he left his bedroom and walked down the hallway as fast as his slight limp would allow to his study. He pushed open the door, seeing Gerald, his trusty butler for years, was inside, dusting off the array of objects sitting on his desk.

The gray-haired man didn't seem to be startled by the intrusion, instead looking back at him curiously. "Are you ready to leave, Master Richard?" he asked.

"Yes, I believe so, Gerald," Richard answered with a quiet sigh as he walked into the room. "I think I have everything."

Gerald nodded as he went back to his work, using the duster to brush off the couple pictures that were sitting on the desk. Richard's eyes softened slightly when he saw it was the one of his first wife, Ian's mother, sitting on a bench in their garden with a smile on her face as she smelled a flower. It always had been his favorite picture of her. She looked so beautiful and peaceful.

But then, his eyes narrowed slightly when the butler began to brush the second picture, which was of himself sitting on the same bench in the garden. On his lap was a much younger Ian, and they both had matching smiles on their faces. It reminded him of when he had been very close to his son, when the young boy had looked to him for guidance and knew everything would be all right as long as he was there...

_Richard hurried out to the garden with Gerald behind him when he heard the sound of quiet crying, finding Ian sitting near his mother's favorite tree with tears running freely from his eyes. "What happened?" he asked, kneeling down next to the boy with concern._

_After a moment, the nine-year-old sniffed as he looked up at his father, quickly wiping his eyes to try to hide the tears. "I was climbing the tree, and I fell," he answered in a mumble. He almost seemed more ashamed of being discovered like that rather than hurt._

_"For God's sake, Ian, are you all right?" Richard was startled as he glanced up at the tree, unsure of how high he was when he had fallen._

_Ian nodded. "I just scraped my knee," he told him, seeming not to want to draw too much attention to the area as he covered it up as best he could with his hand._

_Richard sighed with relief, wiping away a smudge of dirt on his son's cheek with his thumb. "You must be more careful, Ian," he said, too grateful that he hadn't been injured worse from his fall to be too scolding with him. "You could have been hurt."_

_"I know." Ian's tears stopped almost abruptly, and Richard couldn't help but notice the almost stony expression that appeared on the boy's face. It was the same expression he had been wearing since his mother died almost a week before. He hadn't shown much emotion around anyone else since that fateful day, and these few tears were the first signs of anything he had seen in his son, though he knew he shed more when he was alone. He was only human, and a child at that. But he took on so much responsibility to try to stay strong for one so young, almost too much._

_So it wasn't unexpected for Richard to see the look of surprise that appeared on Ian's face when he suddenly picked him up off the ground and into his arms. "Let's get that knee taken care of," he muttered, noticing the scrape easier now since the boy wasn't trying to hide it._

_Ian looked at his father for a moment before wrapping his smaller arms around his neck in a hug, Richard placing his hand on top of his slightly messy blond hair. He placed his head on his father's shoulder. Everything was going to be all right. Richard felt that the nine-year-old's body wasn't as tense as it had been, and he knew his guard had been let down._

_Gerald smiled slightly. "And after we get your knee cleaned up, I will be glad to get you some ice cream, Master Ian," he said._

_"Thank you!" Ian's face lit up at the mention of the cold treat._

_Richard chuckled quietly as they began to walk back toward the house, glad that the nine-year-old seemed to be in better spirits after his small accident. After the rough time they had been going through after the passing of his mother, that was the most important thing to him._

"If you have everything, Master Richard, there is someone waiting for you downstairs. He says it is a matter of business."

Richard forced away the memory as Gerald's voice brought him out of it, and he gave him a slight nod. "I'll go see to it then," he replied. He turned and left the room, slowly taking the stairs down to the first floor. He saw a younger man was pacing the entrance hall, looking around at the ornate decoration of the vast room. He was taller, had dark hair, and was well-built. A slight smile appeared on Richard's face as he reached the bottom of the staircase.

"Good of you to join me, Joel," he greeted one of his most trusted hired hands who had helped him on many operations before. "I hope you're ready for a bit of a long trip."

xxx

Ian left the large apartment he shared with Nick, Powell, and Phil, locking the door behind him before taking the stairs down to the first floor. He stepped outside into the cool night, glancing around him to make sure no one was there as he crossed the parking lot to where an empty lot sat beside the two-story building. He stopped in the middle of the abandoned area, his slightly shaking breath coming as a cloud in front of him as he pulled out something from beneath his leather jacket.

It was Shaw's gun.

For a moment, Ian paused as he looked down at the firearm he held in his hand, painfully remembering how it had been his right-hand man's favorite weapon of choice. He wasn't even sure why he was out here. What was he hoping to prove?

The gun had been equipped with a silencer, which the Englishman was grateful for as he slowly raised his arm and aimed the weapon at a good-sized concrete block that had been left behind when the lot was cleared. He didn't want to draw any more attention to himself than necessary. His hand shook slightly as he placed his finger on the trigger, hesitating before he pressed down. He usually had no problem firing a gun, but this time, things were different.

Then, before he could question himself further, Ian swallowed as he pulled back on the trigger.

Nothing.

The Englishman lowered his arm, sighing with what he wasn't sure was relief or disappointment. Did he really expect it to work after lying forgotten for so long? It may have worked with a change of ammunition, but he wasn't going to do that now. He would leave it the way it was.

Ian put the gun back in his leather jacket as he began to walk back toward the apartment building. The cold was starting to get to him. But as he started pulling open the door, he gasped when a hand suddenly grabbed his arm from behind and turned him around, trapping him to the wall. The Englishman's eyes narrowed in confusion.

"I thought you went out to eat," he said.

"Nah. They're going to bring me back something," Powell replied. "Now come on. We have to talk."

The blond man couldn't protest as Powell opened the door, pulling him along after him as he walked up the stairs to the second floor. "Powell, what are you doing?" Ian demanded. "Powell! Let go of me!"

But the older Scotsman ignored him as they came to a stop in front of their door. He unlocked it and stepped inside, setting him down none too gently on the couch. Ian looked up at him, startled, and Powell was sad to see there was some uncertainty in his eyes. It wasn't a quality that suited his long-time friend.

"What is this all about, Powell?" Ian wondered quietly, not moving from his spot on the couch.

Though he had been stern before, a small smile appeared on Powell's face. "I've known you for a long time, Ian," he said. "Never once have I seen you ready to give up."

Ian sighed, knowing where this was coming from. "Nick told you." It wasn't a question.

"Moving out to the country?" Powell asked, sitting down on the couch next to him. "That sounds like something I might do, but not you."

"As I told Nick, I'm tired, Powell," Ian answered, not able to meet the older man's gaze. "I'm just tired."

Powell's eyes narrowed with concern. "Do you remember that time before we recruited Phil when one of our jobs almost went wrong?"

Ian glanced up at his long-time teammate, but when he didn't say anything, Powell decided to continue. "It was a bank heist you, Shaw, and I pulled. There was one part of the security system we overlooked, and the guards were alerted. They showed up..."

"And we had to make a fast getaway," Ian went on quietly, the memory coming back to him. "As we were running, you injured your ankle. You told us to continue, but Shaw distracted the guards while I pulled you along with me. We managed to get to where Viktor was waiting with the van, and we drove away without being caught."

"Not only that, but we went back the very next night and succeeded in what we were trying to do," Powell finished with a slight laugh. "But see what I'm getting at here, Ian? You have always been our leader for a reason. You face the danger that comes with these missions without faltering. I have never seen you give up. Even when we lost Shaw."

"I have my limits, Powell," Ian told him, his voice hardly audible.

"Because of your father?" Powell pressed. "Do not let him get the best of you. I have never even seen him, but if you're anything like him, he is probably a strong, determined, intelligent man. You can't be doubting. That's not the Ian I know. Snap out of it, Man." The Scotsman knew that if Ian wasn't in this mindset, he would most likely be getting an earful for saying these things. But he had never seen the other man like this, and it was unsettling to him.

Ian ran his hand through his blond hair, once again unable to meet his long-time friend's gaze. "I have never been able to stand up to my father in anything, Powell. I can't be his equal," he muttered, defeat lacing his tone. "He has always been one step ahead of me, and this time is not any different."

Powell nodded. "I'm not surprised since he's the one you learned everything from," he replied. "But that just means you have to make a move he won't expect."

For a moment, Ian considered Powell's words. Becoming his father's equal was something he had never accomplished, but the truth of the matter was he had gotten close- close enough to be able to catch him off guard. A smirk that was more characteristic of him appeared on his face as he turned his gaze to Powell.

"He will not know what hit him."

Powell smiled to himself. No longer was there uncertainty in the other man's eyes. He now recognized the determined, calculating gaze of his fearless leader. "Welcome back, Ian."

**Author's Note**: So things are going the right direction... right? At least Ian's back on his feet. But they still have his dad to deal with. But anyway, we'll see how it goes! Thanks for reading! Your reviews are much appreciated!


	11. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer**: I own nothing from the movies! I only own Nick, Clara, Richard, and Joel.

**Author's Note**: *sighs* I know I'm terrible at updating this story, lol. But never fear, it's not dead! I've just been insanely busy since I'm close to graduating college, and I've had relatively no free time. But, this chapter's been completed after I watched the first National Treasure movie on a whim a couple nights ago, and I've got the next one almost done and the one after that planned out. So, hopefully, the updates will come a bit sooner. Thank you so much for sticking with me through this, you guys, and I really appreciate the encouraging reviews. But since it's been so long, let's do a little recap of the story up until this point!

_Little Ian Howe_: "I was so scared. I couldn't tell who anyone was."

_Richard Howe_: "Well, Son. That's the point of a masquerade, to hide your true self from the world."

* * *

_Ben Gates_: "I promise you, Abigail, no more treasure hunts. My life is now devoted to my family."

* * *

_Richard_: "This journal can give us every clue we need to find this mirror and prove once and for all who Dracula really was!"

_Ian_: "No. I will not help you. This is something that is out of our control."

_Richard_: "Be careful, Ian. It's a dangerous dance you're stepping into."

* * *

_Ian_: "Powell, do you happen to remember seeing a dagger with an emerald handle that Shaw and I had years ago anywhere?"

_Powell_: "I don't remember when I saw it last. Why are you asking about it now?"

* * *

_Powell_ (on phone): "Ian, it's Powell. We're just a little concerned that we can't get a hold of you, and we're hoping that everything's okay. But my main reason for calling is that I remember the last time I saw that dagger you asked me about now... Shaw had it."

* * *

_Phil_ (over phone): _"Ben, we need you. We have a problem. Ian's missing."_

* * *

_Ben_: "So, did Ian say anything before he left that could give you a clue as to where he went?"

_Powell_: "Well... there was one thing. There was this special dagger that Ian and Shaw had for years. Ian asked me the day after he came back from England if I remembered where I had last seen it since no one has seen it for years."

_Ben_: "Do you remember where you last saw it now?"

_Powell_: "Unfortunately... yes. Shortly before we left for _The Charlotte_, Shaw grabbed the dagger and took it with him."

_Riley Poole_: "You have _got_ to be kidding me..."

* * *

_Ian sitting pensive in Trinity Church..._

_Ian_: "You shouldn't have come. None of you should be here."

_Phil_: "We already lost Shaw to this place, Ian, we're not going to risk losing you too. We're going with you."

* * *

_Under Trinity Church..._

_Riley_: "Is it him?"

_Ben_: "No. These bones are older than almost twenty years old. I'm not sure how old they are, but they're definitely not Shaw.

_Powell_: "I don't understand it. He fell. There was only one place he could have gone, which is where we're standing."

_Ben_: "I don't know what in the world happened to Shaw's body, but I _do_ know for sure that there has to be a logical explanation for it. _No_ one could have survived that fall!"

* * *

_Phil_: "So, your father basically wanted you to help him find this mirror so that you can uncover the secret of Dracula?"

_Ian_: "That's why I have to stop him and find that mirror before he does."

_Phil_: "Not alone, you're not."

_Ben_: "We'll help you too."

* * *

_Abigail_: "What do you mean you're going on a treasure hunt to Transylvania?!"

_Ben_: "I'm sorry, Abigail."

* * *

_Nick Baron_: "This is something that Ian didn't even want _us_ to get involved with, and we go on all of his missions."

_Clara_: "You can't stop me, Uncle Nick."

* * *

_Ian_: "I'm tired, Nick. I'm worn down from this life of hunting. I can't do it anymore. It has cost me my best friend, and it almost took you from me too. After this mission, I'm through."

* * *

_Abigail_: "Something tells me no matter what I do, she won't listen to me, Emily."

_Emily_ (on phone): _"You know what they say, my dear. If you can't beat them, join them."_

* * *

_Riley_: "Do you think that Ian learned everything about... well, being Ian, from his dad?"

_Ben_: "I wouldn't doubt it, Riley."

_Riley_: "Great. Two Ians. That's exactly what we need."

* * *

_Ben_: "Come on, Riley. I really need you with me on this one."

_Riley_: "You don't even realize what we're doing, do you? Just stop and think for once, Ben. We are dealing with a crazy man who is the inspiration for the story of the lord of vampires. What could _possibly_ go wrong?"

* * *

_Powell_: "I've known you for a long time, Ian. Never once have I seen you ready to give up."

_Ian_: "I have my limits, Powell."

_Powell_: "Because of your father? Do not let him get the best of you. I have never even seen him, but if you're anything like him, he is probably a strong, determined, intelligent man. You can't be doubting. That's not the Ian I know."

_Ian_: "I have never been able to stand up to my father in anything, Powell. I can't be his equal. He has always been one step ahead of me, and this time is not any different."

_Powell_: "That just means you have to make a move he won't expect."

_Ian_: "He will not know what hit him."

_Powell_: "Welcome back, Ian."

* * *

_Richard_: "Well done, Ian. Well done. I see the game that you are playing. Well, I accept your challenge. Just do not forget who you are playing against."

_Chapter 10_

_She was standing in the dark, empty sanctuary of a large church, the only light provided by the moon filtering through the stained-glass windows that lined the walls..._

_She picked up an intricately designed hand mirror off the hard floor and gazed into it..._

_A different face was gazing back at her instead of her own reflection, a handsome man with a pale face, dark hair that fell to his shoulders in layers, and coal-black eyes..._

_"Hello, Clara..."_

_The sound of shattering glass surrounded her, followed by her own scream as an indescribable pain flowed through her..._

Clara gasped as she quickly opened her eyes, seeing that she was still sitting in her seat in the airport facing a large wall of windows, having been watching early-morning planes arrive and depart before she had dozed off. She glanced next to her, seeing she was leaning against a still sleeping Riley, their luggage piled together at their feet. In the row of seats behind her, she saw that Powell was still lightly dozing while Phil fidgeted with the pen that he usually carried with him in the pocket of his leather jacket.

"You okay, cutie?"

The fifteen-year-old looked up in time to see Nick walking away from the crowd milling about them as they hurried to or from their flights, a water bottle in his hands as he sat in the seat next to her. "Yeah, I'm fine, Uncle Nick," Clara answered, smiling slightly when he offered her a small sip from his water bottle. She unscrewed the cap and took a quick sip before handing it back to him. "Where are Daddy and Uncle Ian?"

"Still getting tickets sorted out," Nick explained as he leaned back in the chair and stretched his legs out in front of him. "It seems like we'll have a layover in England before we actually reach Transylvania."

Clara nodded slightly, unsure how she felt about that as she leaned down and carefully pulled her bag out from under Riley's, opening it and digging through her luggage before she found what she was looking for– her mother's old copy of Tolkien's _The Hobbit_ that she had let her borrow to read before school started. She only got a couple pages further, however, when a couple pairs of footsteps and a familiar voice reached them.

"All right, guys, we're ready to go. Our plane leaves in twenty minutes."

The high school sophomore looked up at Ben's statement, but her eyes widened in surprise when she saw that a third person had joined her father and English uncle, the subtle disgruntled look on Ian's face not going unnoticed. "_Mom_?!"

Abigail smiled as she approached the rest of the group and set down her own luggage bags on the floor near her daughter's. "Hello, sweetheart," she said cheerfully, leaning down and kissing Clara's blonde head. "Good to see you too."

"But... but I thought that you no longer wanted to be involved with treasure hunting," Clara continued.

"Well, I really don't," Abigail admitted as she sat down on Nick's other side. "But, I realized that since all of you are going off on this crazy adventure, I would join you. After all, I've been a part of this team for a long time, and the place I belong is with my family."

Clara smiled slightly herself, surprisingly relieved that her mother would be coming along with them after all. Nick and Phil exchanged surprised looks, the latter shrugging slightly.

Abigail took a deep breath as she then turned her gaze to Ben and Ian. "Well, since we have twenty minutes, why don't you brief me on everything that's going on?"

Her husband and the Englishman took turns explaining the situation they were now faced with, ranging from the dagger Shaw had had in his possession that they had failed to find, the legend of Dracula, and the plan that Richard Howe had set in motion. "Since we couldn't find that dagger, our main goal now is to stop Ian's father from finding it himself," Ben concluded. "Or worse, the mirror that goes along with it. Otherwise, we don't know what could happen."

"My father is not to be taken lightly," Ian added. "He's a dangerous man who has been known to do whatever it takes to get what he wants."

Abigail smirked slightly. "I've dealt with dangerous men who have gone to extreme measures to get what they want before, Ian," she said. "After all, I've been against _you_ on more than one occasion."

Ian returned the look, though it was only half-hearted. "Very funny, Abigail," he replied. "But for once, I'm afraid that you don't know just what it is you're dealing with."

Before Abigail could reply, Ben walked forward and crouched in front of his wife, taking her hand in his. "This is going to be the most dangerous hunt we've ever been on, Abigail," he muttered when she looked back at him with confusion. "I don't even know exactly what we're in for. In fact, I don't think any of us do, not even Ian. I just want you to stay within my sight at all times, okay?"

A thin line of tears formed in Abigail's eyes as she looked back at him, and she squeezed his hand as she nodded. "All the more reason I'm coming along," she told him just as quietly with a slight laugh. "_Someone _has to take care of all of you."

Ben smiled in return before he leaned forward and gave her a quick kiss. Ian sighed as he turned away from them, pulling his phone out of his pocket to check the time.

"Someone wake Riley and Powell," he announced with slight agitation. "We need to get to the plane."

Waking Powell wasn't too difficult for Nick and Phil, but Riley was another matter entirely. The techie must have gotten little to no sleep the night before, and he was only fully roused when Abigail threatened to steal his precious laptop out of his luggage. He was sleeping soundly again, however, once he was seated by the window on the plane, Ben and Abigail next to him. Clara sat behind them with Phil and Nick as she continued to read her book, and Ian and Powell sat together across the aisle from them. After the discussion they had the previous night, the Scotsman was still somewhat concerned about his long-time leader and friend. But he wasn't able to tell what was on Ian's mind since his face remained expressionless, his intense eyes thoughtful as he continued to gaze straight ahead.

It was late afternoon when the plane finally landed in England, and knowing that they would have a layover that would last for at least a couple hours, the group collectively decided to grab an early dinner since they had all had a few snacks on the plane. They stopped at a fast food place in the airport, having to push a couple tables together to fit them all. Most of them were just relieved to have the chance to stretch their legs after the long trip and were joking and laughing, but Ian had yet to speak a word.

Phil chuckled quietly as he watched Riley and Abigail argue over who got the last ketchup packet for their French fries even though Ben offered to get some more for them before he turned to Clara, who had gone back to her book as she playfully bantered with Nick since he was threatening to spoil the ending. But then, his eyes narrowed slightly in a thoughtful way.

"Hey, sweetheart, where'd you get that cross necklace?" he asked.

Clara glanced up when she heard the familiar nickname, giving him a small smile. "Oh, Jasper's grandmother wanted to give this to me," she answered, her thin fingers absently running over the smooth surface of the small wooden cross around her neck. "She heard I was going to Transylvania."

Powell sighed as he took a bite of his chicken sandwich. "Well, it's fitting if you believe in all that superstitious stuff," he muttered. "I really don't, but hey. Some people do."

The fifteen-year-old nodded slightly. "Yeah, I really don't know what to believe."

Ian glanced down at his half-eaten fish filet before he took a small sip of his lemon iced tea. "I'll be back in a minute, Powell," he told him quietly.

The Scotsman glanced back at him. "Where are you going?" he wondered. With how he had been disappearing on his own lately, the action worried him slightly.

However, Ian didn't give him a response as he rose to his feet and pushed in his chair, walking away from the rest of the group. He left the restaurant and stepped into the busiest part of the airport, pausing for a moment as he looked around for a sign indicating where the restrooms were. Finally spotting them on the opposite side of the hall, the Englishman started to make his way toward them, stopping once again when he came to a stand with brochures for the surrounding European countries. He quickly scanned over them, finally finding a thin one for the Transylvania area before picking it up and starting to skim through it.

"Well, fancy seeing you here, Ian."

Knowing that voice anywhere, Ian slowly raised his gaze and glanced over his shoulder to find the familiar gray-haired man standing behind him, a confident smile on his aged face. A few paces behind him stood a younger, well-built man with slicked-back dark hair.

"Father," Ian greeted stiffly as he turned around completely to face him.

Richard Howe's smile broadened as he walked toward his son, his slow step slightly hindered by the small limp he had. His gaze landed on the brochure that Ian held in his hands, and his eyes shone. "I knew it would only be a matter of time you accepted my invitation," he continued, the other man close behind him.

Ian's eyes narrowed almost dangerously. "I am not accepting any invitation of yours," he stated, slipping the brochure into the pocket of his leather jacket. "If you truly believe that I would help you in your insane mission, then you have gone mad."

However, Richard didn't appear to be fazed by his words, even though the other man did. He turned his attention to him for a moment, setting his hand on his arm. "It is all right, Joel," he told him. "I can handle him. After all, I have for all of these years." He then turned his attention back to his son. "If you are not joining me in my quest, then what is it that you _are _doing here, Ian?"

The Englishman set his jaw firmly, but before he could give his father an answer, another familiar voice interrupted them.

"Uncle Ian!"

Ian ran a quick hand through his blond hair just as Clara approached, stopping beside him. "Daddy wants to know if you were finished eating," she said as he met her gaze. "And–!"

However, she stopped abruptly when she saw Richard and Joel standing nearby, watching her curiously. She glanced up at Ian uncertainly, who simply sighed quietly. "Clara, this isn't the time..." he began quietly.

"Oh, so you must be the girl my son told me about," Richard suddenly spoke up, a faux smile on his face as he took a couple steps closer to Ian and Clara. "The daughter of his close friend, am I right? Tell me, my dear, how did your play go that he mentioned you were in?"

Clara's gaze faltered slightly as she looked from Joel, who was staring intently at Ian, to the older man. "Um, it went fine..."

Richard paused, a slight chuckle escaping from him. "Oh, silly me," he muttered. "I haven't introduced myself, have I? My name is Richard, and I'm the father of your Uncle Ian." He held his hand out to her.

The fifteen-year-old slowly reached out and shook his proffered hand, finding that he had a very firm grip. "Uh, Clara," she managed to say.

"A pleasure." Richard bowed his head slightly as he released her hand. Ian immediately pulled Clara close to him. The older man's smile lingered.

"So, Ian, what has made you decide to invite this young lady to this dance with you?" he wondered.

Clara glanced up at Ian with confusion, seeing that he had narrowed his eyes at his father. "That is no concern of yours," he told him quietly. Then, he grabbed onto the fifteen-year-old's hand and began to pull her after him. "Let's go, luv."

His niece was glad to oblige, and she glanced over her shoulder at Richard and Joel as Ian led her along. A smirk appeared on the older man's face as he watched after his son. "Make sure you proceed with caution, Ian," he warned. "If you take one step forward, you could just as easily take two of them back." Ian's step faltered slightly, and Richard's smirk broadened. "If you step into this dance opposite me, my son, it will be dangerous for you. Do you really want to risk the safety of those closest to you?"

The Englishman said nothing, not looking back as he continued to pull Clara after him through the crowd. Richard chuckled quietly. "Very well, Ian," he muttered, mainly to himself. "The first move will be mine."

* * *

_"If you take one step forward, you could just as easily take two of them back."_

Richard's haunting words echoed in Ian's mind as he went through the thin brochure for the Transylvania area. The couple hour layover had passed slowly for the Englishman, but they were finally on the plane to their destination. Night had fallen about an hour before, and since they wouldn't be landing in Transylvania until morning, most of the group had decided to get some rest. Nick, Clara, and Phil had all fallen asleep across the aisle from him, and Abigail and Riley were also sleeping in their seats in front of them while Ben had slipped on his reading glasses and was making his way through his old, tattered copy of Stoker's _Dracula_ that he still had from his college days. "You never know what you could find in here," had been his reasoning for bringing it along.

Beside him, Powell was still awake as well, going over the brochure with his long time friend. "So, we're actually headed to the castle?" he asked.

Ian sighed as he nodded once. "Yes, Powell," he answered. "I believe it would be a good place to start. It looks like tours start before we arrive and go until around seven at night. We could go on one and see what we can find. That way, we could always force our way in once the tours are finished and know where we're looking."

Powell nodded, but before he could actually say anything, another voice from behind them spoke up first.

"That seems to be a rather tedious way of doing things, Ian. I thought I taught you better than that."

Confused, Powell quickly turned around in his seat to see who had spoken, and even Ben lowered his book and leaned out into the aisle a bit. Ian briefly closed his eyes as he let out a deep breath, opening them again as he turned himself to find Richard sitting in a seat a few rows behind him and the Scotsman, the young and burly Joel beside him. A smile appeared on the older man's face when he saw that he had his son's attention.

"I have already been to Castle Dracula on my visit to Transylvania," he continued. "Though of course last time, I wasn't looking for that mirror."

Ian stared at him for a long moment before he set the brochure aside and rose to his feet. Powell immediately followed him, and Ben slid a bookmark into his copy of _Dracula_ so he wouldn't lose his place before he went after them.

"Considering I do not have your knowledge, Father, it is the only way I see fit," Ian said, causing Ben and Powell to exchange startled looks.

Richard chuckled quietly. "Of course," he muttered. "Why don't you sit down?"

Ian watched as Joel stood from the seat next to the older Howe and moved past him, casting a suspicious glance at Powell and Ben as he went, before he slowly sat down next to his father. Richard smiled at him before he reached into the small carrying case at his feet and pulled out a handheld chess set.

Ben and Powell each took a step closer, causing both Ian and his father to look up at them. "You do not have to be so wary," the latter told them with a smile as he opened the small chess set. "I merely wish to have a word with my son, that's all." He paused, his gaze landing on the Scotsman. "You're a hired hand I recognize. Powell, is that correct? My son hired you after Shaw, if I do remember right."

"That's correct." Powell gazed at him with some suspicion of his own, a look that Richard chose to ignore as he then turned his attention to Ben. "But you... you I don't know. You must be recently hired. Fine taste in literature, though." His eyes lingered on his copy of _Dracula_ before he began to hand the black pieces to Ian while setting the white pieces up on his side of the board.

"I'm not one of your son's hired hands," Ben replied. "Just an old friend. He funded an expedition of mine."

"Did he now?" Richard gazed at Ben with interest for a moment. "Gates. Now I remember. Yes, Ian told me all about the Templar Treasure expedition. And it must have been your daughter that I met in the airport earlier. Charming girl you have."

Ben glanced at Ian, who didn't meet his gaze as he continued to set up the chess pieces on his side of the board. "Thank you," he finally muttered.

Richard nodded as he turned his attention to the game board, seeing that the younger man was ready to play. "So, you plan to search for that mirror as well, I take it," he stated after they had both made a few moves in silence.

Ian studied the board for a moment before moving another piece. "That's the plan," he confirmed.

"Hmm. Interesting." Richard moved another one of his pieces. "And what exactly do you plan on doing with it, may I ask?"

"Possibly keep it for historical purposes, considering it once belonged to Dracula," Ian replied, moving another one of his pieces as well. "Anything to keep it out of your hands."

Richard chuckled quietly. "Without the dagger, the mirror may as well be useless," he muttered. "That is why_ I_ should be the one to have it. I will actually utilize it for its intended purpose."

Ian smirked slightly, moving another piece after his father did. "I know you do not have it in your possession, no matter what you say."

"Yes, because I have known all this time that you and Shaw had stolen it." A smile appeared on his face when Ian stiffened slightly after claiming one of his pieces. "You didn't think I knew, did you? But tell me, Ian. Where is it now since you're so confident?"

Ian raised his gaze from the board after a moment and met his father's gaze. "It is in my possession," he told him, keeping his face impassive. Powell and Ben glanced at the Englishman in disbelief. It was at that moment that they were relieved Ian could successfully pull a bluff, unlike the treasure hunter. "Shaw and I have kept it safe for years, and fortunately, he gave it to me before he died." He then moved his piece, claiming one of Richard's.

Richard studied his son's face intently, his own face void of expression to hide his racing thoughts. He then turned his gaze down to the small board between them, a smile appearing on his face as he shook his head. "Ian, Ian. Always the same mistake with you," he muttered in a slightly scolding way, moving one of his pieces closer to his opponent's more important ones. "You leave yourself open that way."

However, a small smirk tugged at the corner of Ian's lips again as he moved one of his pieces to block Richard's, causing a stalemate. The older Howe quickly glanced up at his son, startled, as the younger man rose to his feet to join Ben and Powell.

"I'll see you in Transylvania, Father."

**Author's Note**: All right, so there you have it! Things are starting to pick up! And I promise I'll update as soon as I can. Hope you guys liked it! Thanks for reading! Your reviews are much appreciated. Thank you!


	12. Chapter 11

**Disclaimer**: Nope, still don't own them! Just the movies :)

**Author's Note**: And here I am with another chapter! Now that my semester has started up again, I can't promise the quickest of updates. But, I'll update when I can, because I'm really excited about where this is going. And I'm hoping you'll all enjoy the ride too! Thank you for your reviews from last time! Hope you enjoy this chapter as well :)

_Chapter 11_

The morning was hazy as the pale sun dawned over Transylvania. Ian and Ben led the way off the plane, the rest of their tired group trailing along behind them as they made their way into the airport and worked out getting a couple of rental cars for them to get to the hotel. Powell, Nick, and Phil went with Ian while Abigail, Riley, and Clara went with Ben, and they finally arrived at the small hotel in the downtown area after getting turned around a few times on the country roads. Richard Howe and Joel were nowhere to be seen.

But since it was nearly the noon hour when they arrived, their hotel rooms were further apart than they liked since there weren't many available. Ian and his group took the room open on the second floor while Ben and his family were on the floor beneath them. The rooms were also smaller than they had wanted, but since what was considered the downtown area was small and quaint, it didn't surprise them that they had to make the best of their accommodations. In their room, Ian was given the bed while Powell took the chair and Phil decided to stretch out on the floor in front of the television.

"That leaves the couch for you, kid!" the older Scotsman joked with a laugh. Nick rolled his eyes in annoyance as Phil chuckled while Ian glanced at them with a raised eyebrow.

After getting everything sorted out, Nick wandered over to where Ian was standing next to the bed, going through the brochure of the Transylvania area he had grabbed from the airport in England as well as the old journal he had brought back from his father's house. "Whatcha looking at?" the younger man asked.

Ian sighed quietly and glanced up at his stepbrother before turning back to the faded pages of the journal. "The brochure has a map of how to get to Castle Dracula from this area," he answered off-handedly. "Since we only took one, we'll just have Gates follow us. But I'm just looking over the journal my father found when he was here last to see if there are any other clues that could help point us in the right direction. The castle is a big place."

"Going in blind won't be easy," Nick agreed, to which Ian shook his head slightly in agreement. "Find anything?"

"Not yet." The Englishman ran a hand through his light hair as he scanned the script intently. A moment of silence passed before Ian turned the page, his eyes narrowing.

Nick glanced at the older man. "What is it?" he wondered.

Ian didn't answer immediately as he instead flipped to the next page before backtracking to the one before it. "I didn't notice this before," he muttered. "Before the last entry, there's at least one page missing."

"Missing?" Nick repeated. "Do you have any idea where it could be?"

"Not entirely," Ian told him as he shut the journal, his gaze landing on the brochure next to it thoughtfully. "Though there's no doubt in my mind that my father is aware of this too. He mentioned on the plane that he didn't see the mirror the last time he was at the castle, even though he hadn't been looking for it. But his eye is sharper than that, as is his mind. He wouldn't go in blind either. I think he's looking for something else. Something that could lead him to the mirror."

"The missing pages?" Nick ventured to guess.

Ian pulled his cell phone out of the pocket of his jeans, quickly going through his contacts to get to Ben's number. "I wouldn't doubt it," he said. "We need to hurry."

* * *

"So, let me get this straight. We don't have the dagger we need to go along with the mirror we're trying to find, though your dad thinks we do, and a couple pages are missing from a diary that's really the only clue we have to find that mirror. _And_, on top of all that, we're dealing with a man who's basically another _you_. I don't see how this could possibly end well."

Ian smirked as he turned to the techie standing nearby with Ben and Abigail. "Don't sound so pessimistic, Riley," he said. "So we have a few long odds ahead of us. But it's something you should be used to by now. Right, Ben?"

Ben chuckled as he nodded slightly. "I've been faced with long odds my entire life," he replied.

"I thought as much." Ian laughed a little himself before he glanced at where Nick was standing with Powell, Phil, and Clara. The group was in the back of a long line waiting for the next tour of Castle Dracula to start, and while everyone else seemed to be excited to explore a place that had many stories of hauntings and other strange happenings, they were much more somber since they were there for a very different reason.

Clara took a deep breath as she looked around at the high-ceilinged entrance hall, flooded with light from the tall windows that towered above them. She pulled her hooded sweatshirt a little closer around her, her fingers absently moving to the wooden cross that she wore around her neck.

Nick glanced down at his cell phone to check the time before he slid it back into the pocket of his leather jacket, raising an eyebrow as he glanced at Clara. "You all right, cutie?" he asked. "You look nervous."

The fifteen-year-old jumped slightly as she turned to face him, a small smile appearing on her face. "Oh, I'm fine, Uncle Nick," she answered quietly. "I'm just... I don't know. Something about this place makes me uncomfortable."

Powell let out a deep breath as he looked around them as well. "You and me both, kiddo," he muttered before he wandered over to Ian. He glanced down at the watch he wore around his left wrist as he stopped beside his long-time friend. "The next tour should start in about five minutes."

Ian nodded slightly in response. "Now, either my father has already been here, or he's waiting until the tours stop for lunch in an hour."

The Scotsman's gaze faltered slightly, his thoughts traveling to the older Howe that they had met on the plane from England. "You know him better than anyone, he said quietly. "What do you think he's doing?"

"What do I think?" Ian repeated as he glanced back at the older man with a sigh. "I'm hoping it's the latter."

Soon, more excited murmurings were heard from the hallway in front of them as the group who had just finished their tour returned to the entrance hall. Kids were laughing as they pulled their parents along toward the gift shop that had been added to the castle near the front door, and the tour guide smiled as she waved goodbye to them. Both Ben and Ian rolled their eyes when they saw that she was wearing a pair of fake vampire fangs and was dressed entirely in black.

"Hello, my name's Mina, and I'll be your guide today," she said in a thick Transylvanian accent as she turned to the new group that awaited her. "Make sure to stay close together, now. We don't want anyone getting lost. So, if you'll follow me this way, we'll begin our tour with the west wing."

Ian and Powell led the way after the rest of the group as they followed the tour guide down a carpeted hallway away from the vast entrance hall, Riley, Clara, Abigail, and Nick close behind while Ben and Phil came last, all keeping a sharp eye out for something that they weren't entirely sure of. They really paid no attention to what she was telling them about the sinister paintings that hung along the walls or the history of the style of architecture, though Ben and Abigail would have loved to take the tour again to hear all of that information.

When they paused for a minute to listen to a scary story about Count Dracula as they stopped in front of his portrait on the wall, Ian took the opportunity to get a better look at a couple painted vases that were sitting on a pedestal against the wall near him, trying to figure out what the images were depicting.

But then, he glanced down when he felt a pair of eyes on him, seeing that a blond-haired boy no older than six was holding onto his mother's hand as he looked at him intently. The Englishman gave him a small smile as he rejoined the rest of his small group, but the kid only looked away when the tour guide began to lead them on again.

However, Clara slowed to a stop when she reached the painting of Dracula, and her eyes widened in horror. She recognized the figure immediately, from the dark robes that he wore to the black hair that fell to his shoulders in layers, and most importantly, his pale, handsome features and his dark, intense eyes. It was the man she had been seeing in her dreams.

Then, her eyes narrowed slightly when she thought she saw his gaze move to her and meet her eyes, and she stood transfixed, unable to look away. The man terrified her, there was no doubt about that. But at the same time, there was something about him that attracted her to him.

_"Clara..."_

There was that voice she recognized once again, the voice that was soft yet dark and menacing. But yet, she was drawn to him, and Clara was hardly aware as she lifted a hand and began to reach out toward the portrait of Dracula.

_"Clara..."_

"Clara!"

The fifteen-year-old gasped quietly as she quickly tore her gaze away from the painting, letting out a soft sigh when she recognized the tall man standing next to her. "You scared me, Uncle Phil..." she muttered.

Phil gave her a small smile and set his hand lightly on her shoulder, his gaze moving to the portrait of Dracula she had been staring at so intently. "Look, I'd love to stand around and stare at creepy paintings all day too, but we're gonna fall behind," he told her.

Clara looked around him, watching as the group continued to make its way further down the hallway. "Oops, sorry," she replied, grabbing onto his hand. "Let's go."

"All right, sweetheart." Phil watched as Clara then began to lead him after the group, noticing as she glanced back at the painting one more time before turning away completely. He briefly glanced at the portrait of the dark-haired count again himself before he began to follow her.

Mina led them up a set of twisting stairs to the second floor, beginning to lead them down a wider hallway that had the same deep red carpeting as the first. There were no paintings lining the walls in this hall, instead replaced by doors opening into various rooms. In front of them all were thick velvet ropes preventing the general public from stepping inside.

Ian didn't pay any attention to what the tour guide was saying, looking inside each room as they passed only to find that they were mainly set up just for display, until she mentioned something about Dracula's bedchamber and many mistresses.

"It is the only room in the castle to remain untouched in the renovation process," Mina was explaining. "They wanted to keep some trace of authenticity to the place when..."

The Englishman tuned out the rest of what the tour guide said, anxious to reach the bedroom she had been telling them about. He had no doubt that this was where his father had come across the journal that belonged to their family.

Ian came to a stop in front of the room, his eyes quickly scanning over the tall bookshelf that stood against the stone wall to the four-poster bed, a deep purple velvet curtain concealing it from view, that sat across the room from it to the antique desk that sat beneath the window. He then glanced down the hall as the rest of his small group stopped around him, waiting until Mina was around the corner before he nodded to them.

"Okay, go. Five minutes tops."

Powell, Phil, and Nick stepped over the thick rope into the bedchamber without question, the latter helping Clara over after him. Riley stepped over next, grumbling under his breath about rule-breaking, while Ben and Abigail followed, both seeming to be disgruntled that they had to leave the tour so early. Ian stepped one foot into the room before he paused, noticing the blond-haired boy who had been watching him before was looking at him again, this time with wide eyes. He gave him another small smile, bringing a finger to his lips to tell him to stay quiet before he followed after the rest of his group.

"So, what is it that we're looking for, Ian?" Abigail asked, turning to the Englishman.

"When my father came to Transylvania, he found this journal that has belonged to our family for centuries," Ian explained. "Earlier, I discovered that a couple pages could possibly be missing. From what I gathered from the rest of the journal, my ancestor learned that Dracula kept things he valued, including objects taken from his victims, here since he was wary of most of the castle's inhabitants. This is where my father probably found it, and this is a good place to start looking for them. I doubt the mirror is here, because my father would already have it if that's the case, but if we find the pages, we may have a lead to it. Four minutes. Go."

Abigail followed Ben over to the closet in the corner of the room, struggling to turn the rusted handle before they finally pulled the door open and began to go through the thick, leather bound books that were sitting on the shelves inside and were coated in layer upon layer of dust. However, nothing they came across was written in English, so they didn't think it was what Ian was looking for, and they continued on.

Clara and Nick made their way over to the four-poster bed, and the fifteen-year-old knelt on the floor to look underneath while the latter pushed aside the purple curtains to look inside. He moved aside the pillows and the blankets but found nothing. Clara was about to get back to her feet, but then she noticed that a thin, dark box was sitting under the bed. She reached out and managed to grab it before pulling it out.

"What's in there?" Nick wondered, glancing down at her after he finished situating the bed to look neat once more.

"I'm not sure," Clara muttered, brushing off the thick layers of dust on the box to reveal a symbol engraved in the case– a crescent moon with a wreath of thorns encircling it. She had seen it somewhere before, but for the life of her, she couldn't remember where...

Powell glanced over from where he had been looking through the bookshelf curiously as Clara pushed on the rusted latch with some difficulty before she pulled open the lid of the box. Inside sat what appeared to be a small silver stake.

Riley glanced down at it as he crouched on the floor next to her. "Well, if that isn't ironic, I don't know what is," he said, reaching out and carefully picking it up. Despite its age, it had not taken on the same rust as many of the other objects in the room and still retained its shine.

Clara studied it intently for a moment. "I think we should take this," she replied.

The techie nearly dropped the stake as he met her gaze. "What?" he asked in disbelief. "Clara, are you crazy? We can't just _take_ this."

"I don't think anyone knows this is even here, Uncle Riley," Clara answered, carefully taking the stake back from him and setting it back in its dark, velvet-lined box. "Something just tells me we have to do this."

Nick chuckled from where he stood next to the fifteen-year-old. "You've been hanging around us for far too long, cutie," he muttered.

Clara just smiled at him while Riley cast him a dark look before she closed the box and secured it before she slipped it into the bag hanging over her shoulder.

"I'm gonna tell your parents," Riley grumbled, glancing over at where Ben and Abigail were still engrossed in the thick-volumed books they were finding in the closet.

"It's not like you're stopping me, Uncle Riley," Clara told him, quickly kissing his cheek before she rose to her feet. It was something the techie didn't have a response for.

"Two minutes," Ian announced to the group as he wandered over to the antique desk beneath the window with Phil. Nothing sat on top of it, and when he tried to pull open the drawer, he found it to be locked.

"Got it," Phil said when the Englishman glanced at him. He pulled a pin out of the sleeve of his leather jacket and worked on the lock, picking it in only a few seconds.

"It's old," he told his leader with a smile as he took a step back.

Ian returned the look before he pulled open the drawer, and his eyes shone when they landed on what was inside. "Phil, I'm going to need to borrow your pen."

Riley sighed as he watched Clara make her way over to the bookshelf that Powell was still looking through, pausing when he saw that a large, ornate mirror sat on the wall beside the door that opened into the hallway. "Mirror, mirror on the wall, who's the fairest one of all?" he murmured sarcastically, causing Ben to roll his eyes from where he stood in the closet doorway while his niece chuckled quietly. "Hey, Ian. It's not a mirror like this, is it?"

The Englishman shut the drawer of the desk, straightening out his leather jacket as he handed Phil his pen back before he glanced over his shoulder at where the techie was standing. "No, Riley," he said. "What we're looking for is a hand mirror."

"Well, that's good," Riley replied. "Easier to carry at least."

Another minute passed before Ian made his way to the door of the room. "All right. The tour should be making its way back to the main entrance hall by now to go into the east wing," he told the group. "We can rejoin them without them even noticing we were gone."

"Already?" Abigail asked, sounding slightly disappointed as she looked at the manuscripts that still lay before her. "There are so many years of European history from this era here to translate..."

Ian sighed quietly. "If you do not wish to be arrested for trespassing, Dr. Gates, then I suggest you come back with us," he answered.

Abigail hesitantly set the thick, heavy book back in its proper place as Ben made his way over to where the Englishman and his group were gathered. "Did you find anything you were looking for?" he wondered.

A slight smirk appeared on Ian's face as he met the treasure hunter's gaze. "Something close." He then shared a knowing look with Phil while Nick and Powell glanced at their leader curiously.

The group quickly stepped over the velvet rope and left the bedchamber, making their way through the hall and down the spiral staircase back to the main floor of the castle. They waited in the cover of the hallway filled with sinister paintings until Mina's echoing voice reached their ears, watching as she led their tour group across the vast entrance hall. They waited until the guide turned around before they ran out to join the back of the line, slowing their paces to a casual walk as they followed her toward the east wing. The same young blond-haired boy turned around to look at Ian, who simply smiled back at him.

The rest of the tour passed by relatively quickly since there wasn't quite as much to see in the east wing, much to the dismay of Ben and Abigail, and they once more found themselves in the vast entrance hall as Mina bid them all farewell. Most of the group hurried off toward the gift shop or left the castle while the guide herself took out her fake fangs to go on her lunch break, but Ian and Ben's groups lingered behind to speak to each other in quiet tones.

"So, what'd you find in that room, Ian?" Powell pressed.

Ian smiled at him as he began to reach into his leather jacket. But before he could answer, he stopped when another voice reached them as the hall continued to clear.

"So, you went on the tour anyway. Did you find anything useful?"

The group turned and watched as Richard Howe made his way over to them from the tall, double doors of the castle with his young hired hand close behind. Nick stiffened slightly as he drew nearer, and Ian set his hand lightly on his shoulder.

"Who's _this_?" Riley asked quietly, wrinkling his nose slightly. The question hadn't been intended for the new arrivals to hear, just Ben and Abigail, who were standing nearest, but it was heard anyway. Joel turned and sent him a dark look, which made the techie flinch slightly, while Richard simply smiled.

"But of course. How thoughtless of me," the older Howe muttered. "Since we are all working to find the same thing, we may as well get to know one another." He turned his gaze from Ian to Powell, nodding slightly at the Scotsman before his gaze landed on Phil. "You I recognize as well. My son hired you some time ago after a Russian man, if I recall. Phil?"

Phil nodded once but didn't say a word. Richard's smile lingered as he then turned his gaze to his stepson. "It has been a long time, Nick," he stated. "You look well."

"It has," Nick agreed stiffly, his tone not wavering. "As do you."

Richard chuckled quietly as he turned away, causing a quiet sigh of relief to escape from Nick. His attention was moved to Ben, and he nodded slightly. "Good to see you again, Gates," he said, which Ben simply nodded in return to as the older man then turned to his daughter. "And Clara as well, of course."

Clara didn't respond in any way as Abigail set her hand on her shoulder securely. Richard turned his gaze to her, his smile returning. "You I do not know."

"This is my wife, Abigail," Ben told him quietly, keeping a close eye on the older man. "And this is our close friend, Riley."

"A pleasure." Richard nodded slightly to both Abigail and Riley. "My name is Richard Howe, and this is my hired hand, Joel. Good help is hard to find these days, so I am certainly fortunate."

"So wait," Riley said, glancing from Ian to his father. "_You're_ Ian, Sr.?"

Richard chuckled at the name. "I suppose that is one way to put it, yes," he replied. "Considering I have taught my son everything he knows." Ian sighed quietly.

"But this leads me back to my original question, Ian," Richard continued, turning his gaze back to his son. "Did you find anything useful on your tour?"

Ian met his father's gaze, keeping his face impassive as he gave him his one word answer. "No."

Richard studied his face for a long moment before a smile slowly spread across his face. "Very well."

The blond Englishman watched the older man carefully as he started to pace slightly. "Not that I thought you would find anything. In my travels here, I have checked every room." He paused for a moment. "Except for one."

Ian arched an eyebrow. "And what room would that be?" he asked.

Richard stopped and met his gaze. "It is completely blocked off to tourists. Even employees rarely go down there," he answered. "But underneath the castle is where Dracula is said to have tortured his numerous victims. The only trick is finding the door."

"Do you know where this door could be?" Ben posed before Ian had a chance to respond, his interest piqued.

"Of course." Richard turned his attention to the treasure hunter. "I had this trip planned out in its entirety. All that's left is to investigate, which I am going to do now while most of the employees are on their lunch break. You can join me if you wish. It is entirely up to you." And with that, the older man turned and began to make his way in the direction of the west wing with Joel.

Powell leaned closer to Ian, who was watching his father's retreating back intently. "He's almost as unreadable as you are," he muttered.

Ian nodded slightly, almost thoughtfully. "I'm going to go as well," he finally announced to the group. "I'm not sure if there is anything to be found there, but I would rather not take the chance to allow him to gain valuable insight while we do not."

"I'm not sure if that's a good idea, Ian," Nick spoke up. "I don't trust him."

"I don't either." Ian turned to face his stepbrother, his brow furrowing. "But I need you with me on this one, Nick. I need you to trust me."

The younger man studied the Brit's face for a long moment before he took a deep breath and nodded once.

"Of course we trust you, Ian," Phil said. "You've never led us astray. Even in the most dire of situations."

Ian smirked slightly. "I appreciate your faith in me, Phil."

"We'll go with you too," Ben added. "I mean, we're in this thing together. And if your dad's as dangerous, and as intelligent, as you claim, you'll need all the people you can get." But then, he amended, "Though, I wouldn't mind if _you_ stayed behind for now."

Abigail rolled her eyes when her husband's eyes moved to her. "Ben, if I hadn't intended to join you on this hunt, then I wouldn't have shown up at the airport," she stated. "Besides, with all of you big, tough guys, I think I'll be just fine. But I _would_ feel better if Clara wasn't around Richard..."

The fifteen-year-old quickly shook her head in protest. "You can't leave me behind by myself."

"Don't worry, Abigail," Powell spoke up with a smile, wrapping his arm around Clara. "We'll keep a close eye on the kiddo."

Abigail gave a grateful smile to the Scotsman. Ian sighed. "Well, since we've gotten that all straightened out, let's not fall behind," he told them.

The rest of the group began to follow the Englishman as he hurried in the direction Richard and his hired hand had gone, leaving Riley and Nick lingering behind for a moment. "You know, I still don't think this is a good idea," the techie mumbled. The other man shook his head in agreement, but they hurried after the others anyway since they were already almost out of sight.

Richard led them past the hallway of sinister paintings they had been taken down when they had started their tour, instead making their way over another thick velvet rope and down a much darker hall as their footsteps echoed off the stone floor. The path began to gently spiral downward, growing darker and darker as they went.

"You know, there are many legends about who Dracula really was," Richard said from the front of the line, pulling a flashlight out from under his long, heavy jacket as he used its narrow beam to guide their way. "Some people will say he was a ruthless mercenary. Some say he was just a cruel ruler. Others say that his power was much more extensive. For example, it is said that he can enter dreams and torture the mind."

From where he was walking near the back of the line, Riley laughed a bit nervously while Abigail, who was nearby, set a reassuring hand on his shoulder. Nick just simply rolled his eyes.

"How much further?" Ian wondered from where he was walking with Ben and Powell behind his father and the young man he had hired. He was tired of hearing these stories.

Richard glanced over his shoulder at them, a small smile on his face. "Not much further, Son."

Soon, the group reached a small, circular room with a single stone bench along the wall. Across from them loomed a tall wooden door with a rusted, antique lock keeping it closed. The Englishman turned to his tallest colleague. "Phil."

Phil nodded as he started to walk forward, but burly Joel stepped forward first and simply broke the lock through use of force. The young hired hand then began to pull open the door, having a little bit of difficulty with how heavy it was, and Ian nodded to Powell, who helped to pull it the rest of the way open. Richard took a couple steps closer and shone his flashlight into the darkness, revealing a steep set of stone steps that led down to who knew where.

"_That_ looks safe," Riley mumbled.

Ben glanced back at him before turning back to Richard to see what he would do. The older man simply glanced at Ian, who met his gaze for a moment before he slowly set a foot on the top stair, trying to see as far down the stairs as he could in the light of his father's flashlight. But the staircase was not only steep but spiraled, and there wasn't much he could see from his position.

Nick immediately walked forward to join Ian, sending Richard a distrusting look as he passed him, while Phil followed close behind. Riley gave a resigned sigh, knowing they would be ending up going down the flight of dark, creepy steps one way or another, as he went after them, and Ben grabbed a secure hold of Abigail's hand as he walked toward where Richard was lingering in the doorway with her and Clara.

But then, Abigail stopped when a quiet ringing sound came from the depths of her purse. She slid her hand from her husband's grasp and quickly pulled out her cell phone, ignoring the curious looks the rest of the group was giving her as she checked the name flashing on the screen.

"Sorry, guys, I have to take this," she told them. "It's the National Archives Building."

Ben nodded as he passed Richard, lingering in the doorway across from him as he waited for his wife. Clara glanced back at her mother curiously and lingered back for a moment as she spoke quietly into her phone.

"Hey!"

Ian looked up, startled, when he heard his colleague's startled cry, reaching out along with Ben as Powell was roughly shoved forward from where he was holding onto the tall door by Joel to catch him before he could hit the hard stone floor. Phil set his hand on the older man's back while Riley watched with wide eyes, Nick quickly turning to his stepbrother. The blond Brit moved his gaze to his father while Clara and Abigail watched with horror, seeing the smirk that had appeared on his face.

"Proceed carefully, Ian," Richard muttered, the taunting look the last thing the group saw before the heavy door slammed closed, casting them all into complete darkness.

**Author's Note**: As you guys probably know from previews stories and even previous chapters of this one, my cliffhangers aren't going anywhere, lol. The good news is, I have the next chapter underway, so I'm hoping I can get it done in my free time! Also, just a note. They don't really have anything to do with the trilogy, but some references will be made to them in some of them, I'm doing a series of four oneshots that center about how Ian and his group came together. Just a little character study for my own amusement, but you're welcome to join me there too! Powell's is already up with the story **Snow Angels**, and Shaw's will be up next with **Iron Pen**. But anyway, hope you liked this chapter! I'll get the next one up as soon as I can. Your reviews are much appreciated. Thanks!


	13. Chapter 12

**Disclaimer**: Nope, nothing from National Treasure is mine! Just my own characters and both movies :)

**Author's Note**: Hey, guys! Thanks for your reviews! I appreciate them! We have now reached 100! Thank you guys so, so much! Well, we're moving right along now, it would seem, and things will definitely start to pick up. So, with that said, hope you enjoy the adventure down in the creepy dungeons! :)

_Chapter 12_

"Abigail!" Ben shouted, pounding as hard as he could on the tall, heavy door that had trapped them inside even though he couldn't see a hand in front of his face. The darkness was much too thick, and much to his dismay, the door didn't budge. "Clara!"

"Calm down, Ben." Ian's steady, thick English dialect reached the treasure hunter as he continued to pound on the door, sounding strangely muffled.

"Calm down?!" Ben repeated as he quickly turned around. The action, of course, didn't do much good considering he couldn't see the Brit anyway. "How could you expect me to calm down, Ian?! My wife and daughter are stuck with that man!"

Ian sighed. "Look, I may not know Joel," he muttered, his voice remaining at a much calmer level than his companion's. "But I _do _know my father. He will not hurt them, and I'm certain that he will not have his new hired hand harm them either."

A tense moment of silence hung over the now group of six before Ben let out a deep, low breath. Nick cleared his throat. "I knew we shouldn't have trusted him."

"I never did, Nick," Ian told him. "I expected him to pull something like this. I just didn't think that Dr. Gates and Clara would be caught up in the situation, which is regrettable. But not impossible to deal with by any means."

Ben did his best to look in the direction of where he thought he heard Ian was standing. "You knew he would do something like this?" he wondered.

"Not this exactly," Ian clarified. "But something close."

"Well, it's great that we finally got that figured out," Riley finally spoke up, his sarcasm difficult to miss. "But if you guys haven't noticed, we're still trapped in here in complete darkness, unable to go anywhere."

Surprisingly, the soft sound of Ian's chuckle filled the narrow staircase. "You still doubt me after all these years, Riley?" he asked.

The techie grumbled quietly under his breath about dynamite But then, a thin beam of light appeared, blinding compared to the heavy blackness that had previously hung over them. Once their eyes adjusted, the group saw that the Englishman had pulled out a flashlight of his own, a slight smile appearing on his face as he reached into his leather jacket and pulled out a second one.

"What would you ever do without me?" Ian asked lightly, handing it to Ben.

The treasure hunter took it gratefully and switched it on, causing the entire staircase to be illuminated combined with Ian's flashlight.

"All set then?" the blond Brit wondered, knowing that the only way they could go now was forward. When he got no audible protests, he nodded slightly. "Let's go."

* * *

Abigail slid her cell phone back into her purse once she finished speaking on the phone with her coworker from the National Archives Building before she wrapped her arms around her daughter and pulled her close to her as she narrowed her eyes at the two men who stood before them. Clara watched nervously as Richard took a couple steps closer to them, a sinister smile lingering on his face.

"Now that they're taken care of, we can be on our way," the older Howe murmured.

"I'm not going to help you," Abigail replied with a vehement shake of her head, tightening her hold on Clara. "Not when you just locked my husband and my friends down there."

Richard appeared to be unfazed by her retort. "No need to worry about them," he said. "We were already here on our last visit. There is nothing down there of worth. There is another way out, however, which I have no doubt that my son will be able to find. Now, Abigail, I'm going to say this one more time. Let us be on our way."

Abigail once more appeared to be ready to protest, but whatever words she was going to say died on her lips as Joel approached them and set his hands securely on her shoulders to guide her along. She complied, seeing no other choice, but she kept a tight hold on Clara's forearm as they were forced to follow after Richard.

The four made their way back down the dark hallway before they finally reached the vast entrance hall, and the young henchman released his hold on Abigail once they were in the public eye, even though there weren't too many people around since there wasn't going to be another tour for another twenty minutes yet. However, he still remained close to them just in case they thought of running.

Abigail, Clara, and Joel followed Richard through the hallway of sinister paintings that they had been through during the tour, the fifteen-year-old glancing at the portrait of Dracula once more as they passed it. The older Howe then led them up the spiraling staircase that wound its way to the second floor and down the narrower hallway until they came to a stop in front of the bedchamber. Joel helped Richard to step over the velvet rope into the room before he shoved Abigail forward, causing her to nearly stumble as she stepped over the rope after him. Clara looked up at the burly man nervously before she stepped into the room herself, Joel following along after her.

Abigail once more grabbed onto her daughter's arm when she joined her, keeping her close as she watched Joel and Richard warily as they passed. Clara held her bag closely to her, her gaze landing anxiously on the four-poster bed where they had discovered the silver stake she now carried with her.

The older Howe immediately went over to the desk under the window with his henchman right behind him. "This is the desk where I found the journal of our ancestor, which I'm also sure that Ian has," he explained to the other inhabitants of the room. "If the missing pages were anywhere, this is a good spot to start. It is likely that they slid out when I took the journal last time."

Joel watched with his arms crossed as Richard reached out with a small smile on his face and pulled the drawer of the desk open. However, the look vanished when he saw it was empty save a small corner of a piece of paper that appeared to have been torn off. His henchman watched with confusion as the older man reached out and picked up the small piece of older parchment and brought it closer to his face to be able to see what it said.

In what he recognized to be Ian's neat handwriting, he read the one-word message that had been left for him by his son:

_Adjournment_.

Richard nodded a couple times to no one in particular, almost thoughtfully when he recognized the chess term. "Very well, Ian," he whispered. "We'll continue this game later. But the next move is mine." Then, he tore up the small slip of paper in frustration and threw it down on the desk.

* * *

Ian cautiously led the way down the spiral stone staircase with his flashlight to guide him, Nick, Powell, and Phil close behind. Riley followed along behind them with Ben in the back, using his flashlight to cover whatever the Englishman's didn't. Their progression was slow due to the heavy darkness that hung over them, but also because of the the way some of the steps themselves weren't very sturdy and protested ominously beneath their feet. Ian was instantly reminded of years before beneath Trinity Church, no matter how he tried to ignore the familiar but nagging feeling of dread, and he continued to glance behind him at those who were following despite himself, just to make sure that everyone was accounted for.

But they made it to the bottom without incident, and Ben walked forward to join the blond Brit as they shone their flashlight beams around the decent-sized, damp, circular room they now found themselves in. It was empty save for an old, metal table against the far stone wall, stained with a dark substance that looked eerily like dried blood. A couple statues lined the walls, primarily what appeared to be menacing gargoyles, as well as the remains of what appeared to have at one time been torches. In a couple places on the wall were also remnants of what appeared to have at one time been chains.

"So... this is where Dracula tortured his victims?" Powell ventured to wonder.

"That's what the stories say," Ben replied, his gaze moving around the room anxiously. There was an undeniable feeling of trepidation and evil hanging heavily over them all. "And it doesn't appear to be too far of a stretch. Come on, let's just find a way out of here."

With that, the treasure hunter began to make his way around the right side of the room with Riley and Phil following along behind him, searching for anything that could prove to be their escape route, while Ian went along the left, guiding Nick and Powell along behind him with his flashlight. While falling into place behind his best friend, Riley paused for a moment in front of a particularly sinister stone gargoyle, its long tongue hanging out from between its dagger-like teeth. He leaned a little closer to it when he noticed that a set of rubies made up its eyes.

Suddenly, he jumped back with a startled cry when the rubies seemed to quickly flash in the darkness, letting out a nervous laugh when the rest of the group turned to look at him curiously. "Whoa. I could've sworn that thing was alive for a minute..."

"What are you talking about, Riley?" Ian wondered, sounding slightly incredulous.

"Well, the..." the techie began, but his sentence trailed off when he saw the look on Ben's face was mirroring the Englishman's tone. No one else had seen what he had, and they probably wouldn't believe him if he tried to explain himself. "Never mind. It's nothing."

Ben and Ian exchanged confused looks before they each continued leading on the search for the way out of the torture chamber.

Phil set his hand on the rough stone wall as he followed after Ben and Riley to help guide him along, noticing that the latter appeared to be really nervous about something. But what was causing him to be that way, he wasn't sure. On the other side of the room, Powell glanced around warily as he followed Ian and Nick, pausing for a moment to study one of the gargoyle statues himself. He slowly reached a hand out to lightly touch its disfigured face, a startled cry of his own escaping him as the stone structure crumbled and started to collapse toward him.

Ian immediately turned around at the sound, shortly followed by a loud _crash_, while Nick did the same, his eyes wide when he saw the broken statue on the floor right next to the feet of his colleague. Ben, Riley, and Phil stopped to see what the commotion was and to see if the older Scotsman was all right, the latter still with a guiding hand on the wall beside him.

"My God, Powell, are you all right?" the blond Brit asked once the dust from the breaking statue began to settle.

Powell slowly looked up to meet his leader's anxious gaze, his own eyes wide and his face a bit pale as a long, shuddering breath escaped from him. "Careful no one touches anything," he muttered in a form of answer.

A small smile appeared on Ian's face as he let out a quiet sigh of relief, Nick chuckling a little as he shook his head slightly. "Glad you're okay, Powell," the younger man said.

Riley took a deep breath as he exchanged relieved looks with Ben before he glanced back at Phil, noticing that the taller man was shaking his right hand slightly. "Are _you _okay?" he wondered.

Phil stopped the motion as he met the techie's gaze. "Oh, yeah. Fine," he told him. "Just pricked my hand on the wall or something."

"If you're sure. Don't want anyone getting hurt, especially down here especially with no way out."

"There is a way out," Ben suddenly spoke up. "Guys, come here!"

Ian quickly looked up at the sound of the treasure hunter's tone, hurrying over to where he, Riley, and Phil had gathered with Nick and Powell. In the combined lights of the two flashlights, the group saw a black, circular grate along the bottom of the wall.

"A culvert," the blond Brit muttered. "Good work, Ben."

"A drainage path?" Nick wondered.

"Yes," Ian said, crouching on the floor in front of it to better shine his flashlight inside. "Hasn't been used for centuries. It should be safe to travel through. It would probably come out a bit down the road from the castle, more toward the bottom of the hill. We'll just have to get it open."

"On it." Both Powell and Phil moved forward, working on the latch that held the grate closed. Riley sighed as he eyed their work warily, not looking forward to the journey he knew they now had to make to get out of the castle. Ian smiled slightly when his cohorts finally got the grate pushed aside, glancing at Ben.

"Who should do the honors?"

"I will," Ben told him, taking a deep breath before he crouched down beside the Englishman and put the flashlight beam between his teeth before he crawled forward into the dark tunnel. Riley followed with Phil and then Nick, and Powell paused when Ian reached out and patted him on the shoulder.

"You sure you're all right?" the blond man asked quietly.

Powell nodded, giving his old friend a small smile. "I'm fine, Ian," he answered.

"Good." Ian turned his gaze to the culvert in front of them. "Go on. I'll follow behind."

The Scotsman gazed at his leader for a moment longer before he sighed quietly, unable to tell what was on his mind as he crawled into the tunnel after the rest of the group. Ian watched after them for a moment, sticking his own flashlight between his teeth before he made his way after them.

The six men were unsure how long it took for them to reach the other side of the gently sloping drainage path, but Ben finally led them around a corner to find another grate that had sunlight filtering in through it, suddenly so bright that it nearly blinded them. Once their eyes adjusted, Powell and Phil worked to get this one open as well while Ben and Ian switched off their flashlights before the latter stuck them both back into the pockets of his leather jacket. The grate finally gave way under the combined efforts of his colleagues, and the lead treasure hunter led the way out of the culvert with the other five close behind.

They found themselves pretty much where Ian had predicted– toward the bottom of the hill away from Castle Dracula near the main road. Anxious to find his wife and daughter, Ben jogged back in the direction of the dark, looming building with Riley, Powell, and the blond Brit close behind. Nick was about to go after them, but then he paused with confusion when he glanced down at Phil's right hand.

"What's that?" he wondered.

Phil followed the other man's gaze curiously, seeing that there were what appeared to be a couple small pin pricks in his skin hear his thumb. "Oh, that's nothing," he muttered. "Don't worry about it."

Nick's eyes narrowed slightly with concern. "The area's pretty red," he continued to press. "Maybe we'd better get that looked at when we get back tot he hotel."

However, Phil just brushed his worries aside. "Don't worry, Nick, it's not a big deal," he assured him. "I just poked my hand, that's all. We're already falling behind, and I don't want to slow Ian down or worry him anymore. He's already got enough to deal with because of his father and all. He's not gonna need any more distractions. There's something about that guy I really don't like."

"You have no idea." Nick watched as Phil hurried after the others for a moment before he sighed to himself and began to follow at a bit of a slower pace.

By the time they rejoined the rest of their group, Ben already had Abigail wrapped up in a tight embrace while Riley checked on Clara. Fortunately, neither one of them appeared to be hurt.

"We went back to the bedchamber," Abigail was explaining when her husband finally released her, giving Riley a quick hug as well when Clara moved on to Powell. "Richard seemed to think that the missing journal pages were there. But I guess you left him a little note or something, Ian. He seemed really angry."

A slight smirk appeared on Ian's face as he hugged Clara when she hurried over to him, feeling that she was clinging to him rather tightly. He set his hand on top of her head as he met Abigail's gaze. "It does not surprise me that he was angry," he muttered. "Yes, I did leave him a note I was sure he'd appreciate. But where is he now?"

"I'm not sure," Abigail told him. "He and his henchman just left, leaving Clara and I on the front steps of the castle here. He didn't say anything about where he was staying or anything."

"Of course he wouldn't." Ian glanced around at the group surrounding him. "Well, we may as well head back ourselves. There's nothing more to be found here."

* * *

"Are you sure you do not wish to join us, Phil?"

Phil sighed as he passed a hand over his face. Ever since they had left Castle Dracula and drove back to their small hotel room, he had come down with a terrible headache and a bit of a sore throat, almost feeling somewhat feverish. "Yeah, I'm sure, man," he muttered. "Just bring me back something small, okay?"

Ian glanced at Powell with concern while Nick gave the taller man a knowing look, something which Phil chose to ignore. "All right," the Englishman finally said as he turned back to his colleague. "We're just going to meet with Ben and Riley at a small restaurant they found down the street to look over what I found at the castle and decide what to do from here. We'll be back soon."

"Okay. Take your time." Phil saw Ian's gaze linger on him for a moment longer with clear concern and chuckled quietly. "Ian, go on, man. Go figure out that next step."

A small smile appeared on Ian's face, but it was only half-hearted. "Just sit down and relax for a while," he told him.

"Will do." Phil watched as Ian finally left the room with Powell close behind, Nick glancing back at him one more time before he left after the other two and shut the door behind him. He sighed heavily, leaning against the wall for a moment as he closed his eyes, brushing the sleeve of his leather jacket across his sweat-drenched face. The pain in his head and throat had only gotten worse, even in those few minutes spent talking with his three cohorts, and he could tell that a fever had definitely settled in.

Once he felt that he could make the short walk, Phil opened his eyes and pushed off from the wall, still slightly unsteady as he crossed the living area of the room, having to lean on the arm of the couch for a moment before he managed to sit down on it, closing his eyes once more and leaning back against the cushions.

* * *

"Phil didn't look so good, did he?"

Ian shook his head slightly as he continued to lead the way down the stairs toward the first floor of the hotel. "No, Powell, he didn't," he agreed.

"Well, back at the castle, he said he poked his hand on something," Nick supplied from behind his stepbrother. "It didn't look so good then."

"In that case, we'll have to take a look at it when we get back," Ian muttered with a quiet sigh. "If something was wrong, I just don't understand why he didn't want to say anything before."

Nick's gaze faltered slightly, and Powell glanced at him curiously. "What's on your mind, kid?" he wondered, causing the blond Brit to glance back at him as well. "Did Phil tell you anything?"

"He... he didn't want to worry you any more, Ian," Ian finally said. "He said you were already dealing with enough with your dad."

Ian didn't say anything for a long moment as an unreadable look crossed his face. "I will still handle my father," he replied quietly. "That is not a concern that any of you have to burden yourselves with. However, your well beings _are_ my concern. I mean, I _have_ hired all of you, except for Nick, of course."

Powell laughed. "Sure, Ian. The only reason you care about us is because we're what your _hard-earned_ money goes to." That comment even made Ian smile.

The three men made their way into the lobby of the hotel, seeing that Ben and Riley were already waiting for them near the door. Nick and Powell started to make their way toward them, but Ian paused when he checked the pockets of his jeans.

"I left my phone in the room," the Englishman explained when his colleagues glanced back at him. "You guys go on ahead. I'll be right there."

There was a chorus of "Okays" before Ian turned and made his way quickly back up the two flights of stairs to where their room was. He was almost relieved that he had realized he had forgotten it before they left because not only did he know that he would need it just in case, but this also gave him an excuse to check on Phil.

"We'll be on our way in a second," the Brit stated to the room's lone inhabitant after he unlocked the door and stepped inside. "I just need to grab–!"

But his sentence abruptly cut off when he saw the last member of his group.

Phil was lying sprawled on the couch, his eyes closed and his face a few shades paler than it should have been, one arm dangling limply off the side.

**Author's Note**: Annnnd, another cliffhanger. I know, I'm evil. Lol! But, chapter 13 is underway on my end! Things aren't looking so good for Ian and Co. at the moment. How will things progress? Well, we'll get into that more next time! Thanks for reading! Your reviews are much appreciated. Thank you!


	14. Chapter 13

**Disclaimer**: Nothing from National Treasure is mine except for my OCs.

**Author's Note**: Hey, guys! After that evil cliffhanger, I'm back with another update! Thanks for your reviews, they mean a lot! Well, I won't keep you any longer from finding out what happened to Phil. Enjoy!

_Chapter 13_

Ian sighed heavily, dropping his head slightly as he closed his eyes and ran a stressed hand through his light hair. He was sitting in the dark bedroom of their motel room, Phil lying on the lone bed in front of him. After a quick inspection with Powell, they discovered that the taller man had come down with a high fever. The cause was pretty clear– two small punctures in the skin of his right hand, which appeared to be infected. It didn't take long for the blond Brit to identify it as a spider bite.

Powell had brought the younger man into the other room while Ian did all he could to care for him, tending to the bite itself first to try to bring the swelling down and address the infection. And though he knew that Phil would be all right, as long as he kept his eye on him to watch for any changes in his condition, it made him anxious since all he could really do was wait until his fever broke. Ben had run out to the nearest pharmacy, returning with some pain relief and fever reducing medicine, which they had fortunately been able to administer, and they were hopeful that they would help.

But as Ian continued to simply sit in the chair he had pulled into the room, he couldn't help but think that this incident could have been prevented if only he had pressed the importance that he needed to go on this hunt alone. He knew from the start that this would be more dangerous than anything that they had ever been involved with, primarily because of just who it was that they were up against. He never should have allowed the people he cared about to get involved. He had already lost Shaw. He had already lost Dustin. He had already nearly lost Nick. And now, he had nearly lost both Powell and Phil, all while they were working under his charge.

And the hunt was far from over. What had happened to Phil could have happened to any one of his colleagues, and easily still could, and it still would have been his fault. It still _would_ be his fault.

Though he was the newest and youngest addition to his team that he had actually hired, Phil had proved his worth and his loyalty to him many times throughout the years that he had worked for him. He did whatever he asked quickly and efficiently, and Ian had never once regretted bringing the younger man into his group. He'd had a rough life before they'd found him, but never once had Phil given him a reason to doubt him, and because of that, he was not only one of his hired hands, but a close and trusted friend as well.

For the past fifteen years, ever since he had broken out of prison with the older Scotsman to help Nick and Dustin find the treasure the latter's father had left behind in St. Joseph, Missouri, Powell had been the one constant he had in his life. Since he had been the first person he had hired after Shaw, Ian had come to consider Powell to be his right-hand man after the devastating loss of his best friend since he had always been nothing but loyal. Out of all of his hired hired hands who had worked for him since he and Shaw had gotten their start together, the Scotsman was the one the blond Brit looked over the least. Powell could look after himself, he knew, which came from years of experience. The other thing about the Scotsman that Ian knew, which Powell hadn't tried to be obvious about, was that he was always keeping an eye on him. He appreciated the sentiment, even though he didn't feel that Powell should have been wasting his time by watching out for him.

And then there was Nick. Ian almost chuckled aloud at the thought of his younger stepbrother. Ever since Richard had married the younger man's mother when he was sixteen and Nick was eight, he had hoped that his stepbrother wouldn't get drawn into the criminal lifestyle. However, he also knew from the start that it was just a fool's hope. After all, Nick had grown up in the Howe household until he was a teenager, and after that, he had stayed in the house that he and Shaw had lived in until he graduated from college and they all moved to the States. There was no way that he would be involved with anything else.

But ever since Nick had become his brother, the younger man had been a steadying force in Ian's life, one constant even when everything else around him crumbled around him. He had been there when Shaw had died, and he was still there now when his own father betrayed him, just because he wouldn't agree to help him on a dangerous mission. But it was that reason that the blond Brit had always been so protective of him. That stability was something that he didn't want to lose.

Then, Ian was brought out of his reverie by the quiet sound of the door opening, and he glanced over his shoulder to see that Powell was sticking his head into the room. "How is he?" the older Scotsman asked quietly.

Ian sighed as he leaned forward and gently felt the areas beneath Phil's chin. "The same. Not much worse," he answered, his voice just as quiet. "Glands are still swollen. Fever still hasn't broken yet."

"Well, in about an hour, we can give him another dose of that fever reducer that Ben bought," Powell said, stepping inside and shutting the door behind him. He gazed at the Brit's slightly slouched back for a moment before he walked over to where he was sitting, leaning on the back of the chair. "Are _you_ all right, Ian?"

A long minute passed before the Englishman looked up and met his gaze. "What's the matter with me, Powell?" he wondered, defeat clear in his tone.

Powell's brow furrowed slightly. "What do you mean?" he wondered.

"I mean... I knew something like this would happen." Ian paused, taking a deep breath as he lowered his gaze. "I have lost or almost lost all of you now, and it's my fault. Why did I let you all come along on this hunt with me, Powell? It's something I shouldn't have done..."

The Scotsman worried his bottom lip between his teeth, instantly able to tell that this was something that had been on his leader's mind for quite some time. But then, he reached out and set his hand on his friend's shoulder. "Why did you _let _us come along?" he repeated when the Brit glanced up at him again. "Because you know we were coming along whether you _let _us or not, that's why."

Ian gazed at the on the older man for a moment before a hint of a reluctant smile appeared on his face. Though he still wished that he would have made the journey to face his father and go on this hunt alone, in his heart he had to admit that he was relieved his friends were there.

"Thank you, Powell."

However, Powell didn't say anything in response. Instead, he reached out and set a firm hand on the other man's shoulder. "Why don't you take some rest yourself, Ian?" he suggested. "You've been sitting in here for a long time now. You need to relax, even if it's just for a little while."

Ian opened his mouth to protest, but he never got the chance. "Just for a little while," the Scotsman repeated sternly. "You wearing yourself out isn't going to help Phil."

Not seeing any other option, the blond Brit lowered his gaze for a moment as he slowly rose to his feet. "All right, I will," he muttered. "But only five minutes tops."

* * *

_Riley cautiously stepped out onto the wooden walkway that was before him, the planks creaking ominously under his weight. He recognized the area immediately, for it was a place he had been twice before and wished he never had to see again. His blue eyes flickered with worry as he gazed out at the three wooden elevators that dangled over the black, gaping abyss of the shaft beneath Trinity Church._

_Urged onward by some unknown force, the techie took a couple steps forward on the protesting wooden structure before he paused as the framework started to shake, a loud noise filling his ears as dust and dirt rained down on him. He was filled with a sudden sense of terror since the sensation was also eerily familiar._

_It was a subway passing by overhead._

_Taking a deep breath when he saw that the structure wasn't collapsing around him, Riley continued to inch his way forward. What had brought him here, he didn't know, as well as why he was alone. This was the last place on earth he wanted to be, especially when there wasn't anyone else with him._

_But he didn't get much further before he came to the inevitable dead end, to the spot where the gaps in the structure from someone falling through them were too wide for him to pass. He weighed his possible options for a long moment, to find a way forward or to just turn back, wondering what route would be the best to take._

_However, he didn't get a chance to make that choice._

_A quiet _click_ came from behind him, and Riley turned around, only to find himself staring down the barrel of a shining handgun. He started to raise his hands in the air in a peaceful gesture, hesitating when a familiar chuckle reached his ears._

_"Hello, Riley."_

_The techie moved his gaze away from the metallic weapon, meeting another pair of familiar blue orbs, before he scanned over the man's intimidating features and bald head._

_It was Shaw._

_Then, a loud creaking reached his ears, and Riley quickly looked down when the wooden structure beneath his feet began to collapse. He desperately grabbed at the railing in attempt to keep his balance while the bald Brit did the same, the gun dropping from his hand. For one wild moment, the techie contemplated grabbing the weapon for his own protection, but before he could even consider reaching for it, the planks beneath his feet fell away, and his own scream filled his ears as he began to plummet into darkness._

* * *

Riley straightened up where he was sitting on the chair in the living area to sleep as his eyes snapped open, his breath coming quickly as he looked around the small, dark hotel room his family was staying in. Ben was stretched out on the couch, still sleeping relatively soundly, and he assumed that Abigail and Clara hadn't been disturbed by his abrupt awakening from where they were sharing the bed in the other part of the room.

Taking a deep, shuddering breath, the techie closed his eyes as he leaned his head back against the chair. After the plan to look over whatever Ian had found in Castle Dracula had been delayed due to the spider bite that Phil had gotten, most likely when they had been trapped in the dungeons, and Ben had run out to get supplies for him, they had all retired to their rooms for the night. He had the suspicion that the Englishman, Powell, and Nick weren't getting much sleep as they tended to their ill colleague, and Ben was sleeping with his cell phone on and close to his ear in case of any updates.

Riley slowly opened his eyes and stared up at the dark ceiling above him. He was worried for Phil, that much was certain. They had been friends for about two years, after all, before his group had betrayed them on _The Charlotte_, and they had become an extended part of his family as Clara continued to grow up. He had tossed and turned until he had finally been able to fall asleep, and at first he thought that it was his concern that was causing his slight bout of insomnia, as well as attempting to sleep sitting up in a chair.

But now, he was starting to realize that wasn't the case. After they had escaped from the castle, the techie had been starting to feel undeniably uneasy, maybe even a bit anxious when night had approached. The feeling had been a bit more prominent when Ben, Abigail, and Clara had all gone to bed since he had been alone with his thoughts, and after the nightmare about Shaw, a man who had always unnerved him to say the least, he was certainly restless.

Making up his mind, Riley pushed the blanket that had gotten wrapped tightly around him from all the tossing and turning aside and stood from his chair as quietly as he could, hoping not to wake Ben as he crossed the room and slowly opened the door before he stepped out into the hall. After shutting the door just as quietly behind him, he set his hand on the wall and made his way down the dark hallway to where the lobby was to get some cold water to drink.

However, the techie jumped slightly when he saw in the moonlight filtering into the room that he wasn't the only one there. It took him a minute to register who it was he was seeing, and he sighed quietly with relief.

"Ian? What are you doing down here?"

The blond Brit glanced over his shoulder at the sound of the sudden question, shrugging nonchalantly as he turned his gaze back down to the styrofoam cup he held in his hand. "Making tea," he answered, his tone slightly disgruntled. "Powell suggested I relax a bit. How about yourself?"

"Um... Just getting some water," Riley muttered, watching the other man dip the tea bag in the steaming water a couple more times. He figured that telling him he had a nightmare involving his former right hand man wouldn't have been the best idea.

Instead, Riley walked over to where Ian was standing by the water bubbler and grabbed a small plastic cup to fill with cold liquid. He took a sip, the water a reprieve for his parched throat. Ian watched him for a second before he threw the drenched tea bag in the garbage once his drink was flavored enough, taking a small, cautious sip of the hot beverage before he turned to the techie curiously.

"Are you all right, Riley?" he finally wondered. "You seem... antsy."

"Me? Oh, I'm fine," Riley assured him with a quiet, almost nervous, chuckle. But then, he frowned slightly. "How's Phil?"

"There isn't really any change in his condition," Ian said with a sigh. "But we're hopeful considering that it hasn't gotten any worse."

"That's good." Riley took another sip of his water. "And... how are you?"

Surprisingly, Ian chuckled. "You sound just like Powell," he replied quietly. "I assure you, Riley, I'm fine."

Riley swirled his water around in his cup for a second before he slowly met the Englishman's gaze. "That's not what I meant," he murmured. "I... I mean I wasn't talking about Phil..."

Ian took another small sip of his tea, his brow furrowing slightly as he regarded the younger man. "Then what do you mean, Riley?"

The techie sighed. Why had he even brought this up? He certainly hadn't thought this far ahead. But now, there was no backing out of it. "At... at Castle Dracula," he was finally able to say. "When... when your dad..."

"Riley..." the blond Brit began quietly, clearly not in the mood to talk about Richard's actions, but he was cut off by the other man shaking his head.

"No, Ian. Please, let me just... ask this." Riley passed a hand nervously over his face when it appeared Ian would listen to him as he leaned back against the wall behind him, quickly gulping down the rest of his water. But still, he hesitated on his next words. "My... my dad and I were always so close when he was alive. He was the most wonderful man, Ian. I mean, he did everything humanly possible for all of us. I loved that man. Not just that, but I respected him too." He paused for a moment, trying to formulate his thoughts. "I guess what I'm trying to say is... I can't even begin to imagine what it's like to have your own father stab you in the back like that... That's gotta be rough."

Ian took a long sip of his tea, and for a moment, Riley didn't think that he was going to respond to him at all. He shuffled his feet nervously. He had known that it was going to be something awkward for him and the Englishman to discuss, but yet he had still brought it up. He could have kicked himself.

So it was a great surprise when the other man then took a deep breath before he began speaking.

"Well, Riley, my story doesn't start much differently than yours, I'm afraid," Ian muttered, a slight but somber smile appearing on his face. "Except, of course, that my father was teaching me about his operations of questionable legality ever since I can remember, which I am sure yours was not. But other than that, he was just like any other good father. He picked me up from school everyday, helped me with my homework, took me to sporting events, everything. Sometimes before bed, he would play a game of chess with me. I always lost, of course, until I was older. But I never quite got as skilled as he was. He held dances on some weekends after my bedtime, but I always knew when he had them."

The blond Brit paused for a moment as Riley continued to watch him intently. "Like you, I loved my father," he continued, his tone a bit quieter. "The respect was there as well. After all, I learned everything I know from him. Even after my mother died when I was young, things were all right between us. I still followed in his footsteps. It was when I was sixteen and my father married Nick's mother that things started to change."

"How so?" Riley wondered quietly.

Ian took another sip of his tea. "I broke away from my father somewhat," he explained. "I stopped thinking the way he wanted me to. I instead began to lead the small, eight-year-old boy, who my father never particularly got close to, in my own footsteps. I wouldn't say that this caused a rift between my father and I, but we certainly weren't as connected as we once were. After I moved out of the house with Shaw, our main form of communication was over the phone."

He sighed, not seeing the flicker of fear in the techie's eyes at the sound of the late bald Brit's name. "However, I never thought that he would stab me in the back, as you so eloquently put it. We were never enemies before."

Riley sighed. "I know that feeling," he said. "I mean, look at what Dustin did. I never, ever would have seen that coming."

"No," Ian agreed quietly. "But Dustin was one thing that my father never has been."

"What's that?" Riley wondered curiously, about to take a sip of water but remembering that there was already none left.

"Predictable."

The techie's eyes narrowed slightly. "Predictable?" he repeated.

Ian nodded. "While Dustin was with us, his courses of action were ones that we always expected," he clarified. "And even from your standpoint, you knew where he stood, what he could possibly do next. With my father, that isn't the case. Not even for me."

Realization seemed to dawn on Riley then, and he was certain that his anxiousness could be clearly seen on his face. "We're in a lot of danger this time around, aren't we?" he asked in nearly a whisper. "I mean, like, more than usual."

The blond Brit took another long, thoughtful sip of his tea before he decided just to throw the cup and the rest of its contents in the garbage. His answer was something the other man definitely hadn't wanted to hear but couldn't say that he was surprised to hear.

"Yes."

* * *

Richard Howe sighed quietly as he continued to gaze out the window at the dark sky around them. He and Joel had left Transylvania earlier that evening after making sure that there was truly nothing else to be found since Ian had recovered the missing journal pages from Castle Dracula. When it was clear there wasn't, he arranged for them to leave as soon as possible by plane and head back to England.

Because unlike his son, he already knew where the next destination was.

For a moment, Richard simply sat and thought about his current position. Granted, his journey so far had been filled with a couple of setbacks, such as Ian finding the journal pages first, but he was confident with the knowledge he already had about the dealings their ancestor had with Dracula to still give him that advantage. The next stop was in England, and he was sure that his son would figure that out too as soon as he read over what was on those missing pages.

He was still one step ahead, as far as he was concerned. All he had to do was figure out the exact location, which shouldn't be hard to do.

A sudden quiet snore brought him out of his reverie, and Richard glanced over his shoulder at where Joel was sleeping beside him. He would have tried to get some sleep as well, but as long as Ian had a way to figure out where he had to lead his group next, he couldn't allow himself to rest. He had important things to straighten out himself first.

However, a small smile appeared on his face as he leaned back against his seat.

Even if Ian did figure out the clue to the next point on this hunt, he would be ready for him.

* * *

Ian quietly opened the door of the hotel room he was sharing with his colleagues before stepping inside, closing the door again just as quietly behind him before he sighed and closed his eyes as he leaned back against it. The conversation with Riley about his father had bothered him somewhat, but it wasn't too surprising. He really couldn't blame the techie for being curious about what Richard was now doing considering what he had been through with his own family.

He just wished it was a conversation that he could have avoided.

After another long moment, Ian opened his eyes and walked away from the door, quietly passing by Nick who was still asleep on the couch. He made his way past the cushioned chair that Powell had been sleeping in for the night, picking up the blanket he had been using before he crossed the dark room. The blond Brit then approached the door of the second small room and slowly pushed it open, sticking his head inside.

He saw with concern that Phil hadn't moved from the position he had been in on the bed, but a small smile appeared on his face when he saw that his suspicion had been confirmed and that Powell had dozed off in the chair next to their ill colleague. Ian quietly stepped into the room, approaching the bed to check on Phil first. He set his hand lightly on on the taller man's forehead, feeling with slight relief that the heat that had radiated from him before had cooled slightly. That, at least, was a positive sign.

The Englishman checked the directions on the back of the box of the fever reducer to see when he could give it to Phil next before setting it back down on the small end table at the head of the bed. He then turned to Powell, his small smile returning when he saw that he was still sleeping soundly in the chair. Glad that his presence hadn't disturbed him, Ian carefully draped the blanket he had grabbed from the other room over the older Scotsman to shield him from the slight chill that pervaded the room.

After waiting for a moment to ensure that the small action hadn't woken him, the blond Brit walked away from Powell and carefully sat down against the wall close to both of his associates so he could still keep an eye on them. He sighed and leaned his head back against the sturdy surface behind him.

He was in for a long night.

**Author's Note**: Not such an evil cliffhanger this time, lol. Things are somewhat going in the right direction for the guys, so we'll have to see what happens next. Thanks for reading! Your views are much appreciated. Thank you!


	15. Chapter 14

**Disclaimer**: Nothing from National Treasure is mine. "Footloose" belongs to Kenny Loggins, "Paint it Black" belongs to the Rolling Stones, and "Master of Puppets" belongs to Metallica.

**Author's Note**: Hey, guys! Thanks for the reviews of the last chapter, I really appreciate them! Well, after a blizzard hit here and classes at my campus were cancelled, creating an unexpected snow day, I had the time to finish this chapter! So, I bring it to you now after that rather reflective chapter. How's Phil doing? We'll find out! Enjoy! :)

_Chapter 14_

Clara sighed as she turned over onto her back on the bed, staring up at the dark ceiling above her. She spared a brief glance at Abigail, who was still asleep with her back turned to her, before she tried to close her eyes one more time. Once more, however, the attempt was futile, and she found herself staring up at the ceiling again.

She hadn't been able to sleep well at all that night, ever since she had found out that her Uncle Phil had fallen ill. She had wanted to see him, but her parents had thought it wouldn't be the best idea yet, and Ian had promised she could as soon as he showed signs of improvement. She couldn't help but feel as though she was still being treated like a child.

But at the same time, it was her group of uncles who were, in a sense, keeping her awake. The door to the actual bedroom of the hotel room was open a little, and Clara could hear her Uncle Riley tossing and turning in the chair and muttering fearfully in his sleep about someone named Shaw, whoever that was. She had also heard when he had quietly left the room, as well as came back some time later, and she wondered where he had gone to without telling anyone. It wasn't like him.

However, it was her Uncle Ian who was worrying her the most, mainly because she could see the effect that Phil's condition was having on him. For as long as she had known the blond Brit, he had always been their source of strength since he was always so calm and so sure whenever they were confronted with any obstacle. But for the first time that she could remember, she saw true worry from the Englishman, and she was sure that the rest of her family could see it too, at least the ones that were closest to Ian. And the more she thought about it, this unsettling side of Ian had been there since he had returned from England after he had gone to visit his father. From the time she and Abigail had spent alone with the older Howe, she felt unnerved around him to say the least. But if he had the same effect on Ian, she was suddenly more afraid of this man than she had been before.

Clara turned over on the bed once more, finding a comfortable position on her side as she stared out the window. However, her eyes then moved down to her bag that was sitting on the floor against the wall beneath the window, and she had the sudden urge to get out of bed and look at the silver stake she had taken from Castle Dracula again. But she refrained, mainly because she didn't want to inadvertently wake her mother and have to explain where she had gotten it from, especially since she knew full well that she had stolen it. But she didn't regret taking it in the least.

But then, the fifteen-year-old unconsciously shuddered slightly. The more she thought about the stake, the more she remembered the dark-haired, dark-eyed Count Dracula that she had seen in the portrait at the castle, as well as in her dreams. For some reason unknown to her, she was drawn to him, almost as though he was calling to her. Even though she knew it was impossible, it unnerved her nonetheless. She just wished that she could figure out what was happening to her before it drove her insane.

Not even really thinking about what she was doing, Clara blindly reached out for her cell phone that she kept on the nightstand beside the bed. Finally feeling the smooth surface beneath her fingertips, she propped herself up on her arm and picked up her phone, squinting in the bright light emitting from the screen as she began to scroll through her contacts.

* * *

Ian jumped slightly, startled, as his eyes snapped open when he heard his phone beginning to ring from the pocket of his dark jeans. He quickly pulled it out and flipped it open, not even bothering to check the name on the screen as his eyes darted nervously between Phil and Powell to see if they had been disturbed by the sudden noise. When he saw that they were both still sleeping soundly, he sighed quietly with relief and brought the phone to his ear.

"Hello?" he answered quietly, trying to keep his voice low so he hopefully wouldn't wake his colleagues.

_"Uncle Ian?"_

The tone on the other end of the line was quiet and uncertain, something which the blond Brit hadn't expected to hear. However, a small smile appeared on his face, even though he knew that the fifteen-year-old wouldn't see the look. "Shouldn't you be sleeping, Clara?" he wondered gently, glancing at the glowing numbers on the clock at the head of Phil's bed. It was nearly five in the morning now.

There was a long pause on the other end of the line, and Ian wondered if he had unintentionally made his niece feel as though she shouldn't have called him, even though he always told her that she could. He quickly added, "What can I do for you, luv?"

The tension immediately seemed to lift on the other end of the line. _"I... I was just wondering how Uncle Phil was doing," _Clara muttered.

Ian glanced at Phil once more. "He'll be just fine, Clara," he told her. "His fever has almost broken, and the swelling in his hand has gone down considerably. It appears that the infection is being taken care of."

_"What... what exactly was wrong with Uncle Phil?" _Clara pressed.

The Englishman sighed quietly. They really hadn't told the fifteen-year-old too much, mostly on Ben's urging. He, on the other hand, had always felt that honesty was the best policy, and it was something he had always practiced with Nick when he was growing up. It had been how he was raised with his own father as well.

"Spider bite."

Clara was startled by this information, judging by how her voice rose slightly. _"Spider bite?!" _she repeated before she hastily lowered her tone again. Someone must have been in the room with her, who was most likely sleeping. _"How'd he get that?"_

"Most likely when we were down in the dungeons of Castle Dracula," Ian explained. "But as I said, Clara, there isn't anything to worry about now."

_"Good."_

There was another long moment of silence on the other end, and Ian ran a hand through his hair. "Is there anything else you want to talk about, luv?" he asked quietly.

_"Oh, uh..." _Clara paused for a moment. _"Well... I was just thinking about your dad..."_

Ian closed his eyes and briefly rested his head back against the wall behind him. This was another conversation he was going to have to try to avoid. "Clara, that is also something I don't want you to concern yourself with," he muttered. "It is my hope that you don't have to come in contact with him too much anymore."

_"I hope not. He scared me a little."_

Chuckling quietly to himself, Ian slowly rose to his feet and winced a little when his stiff muscles protested to the movement. He didn't know how long he had been lightly dozing sitting on the floor to keep an eye on his colleagues, but it was enough for his body to start feeling the effects. He crossed the dark room and quietly pushed open the door, stepping out into the main part of the hotel room. The Englishman was relieved to see that Nick was still sleeping soundly in his spot on the couch, and he started to pace slightly in front of the window as he focused on the conversation he was having with his niece.

"Well, he is a dangerous man, Clara," he muttered. "The less that you have to see him, the better."

There was a long pause on the other end. Ian sighed to himself, trying to figure out something else to say, but Clara beat him to it.

_"You're afraid of him too, aren't you, Uncle Ian?"_

The question caused Ian to stop his pacing, and his eyes widened slightly. He was instantly glad that the fifteen-year-old couldn't see the surprise on his face. "No, Clara," he finally answered. "I'm not. Cautious, yes. But not afraid."

_"You're lying_," Clara muttered, her tone uncertain. _"I can tell."_

A small smirk appeared on the blond Brit's face. "What is the real reason for your call, luv?" he wondered.

A brief but startled silence came from the other line this time. _"I... I just wanted to see how Uncle Phil was doing," _Clara muttered.

Ian chuckled. It was clear to him that she wasn't being entirely truthful, but he wasn't going to push her if she didn't want to talk. "Are you sure that there isn't anything else that is bothering you?"

_"No... No, I'm fine."_

The hesitance in the fifteen-year-old's tone was easy to hear, but Ian pretended not to notice it. "Well then, Phil will be fine," he reassured her. "Our hope is that his fever will break soon and that he will wake up after that. You can come see him when he's awake tomorrow if you'd like. I'm sure your parents and Riley will be coming as well."

_"Really?"_ Clara sounded hopeful, but at the same time, there was a slight catch in her voice that was unusual for her.

"Yes." Ian's brow furrowed slightly, wondering what seemed to be bothering his niece. "I will let all of you know when we know more."

_"Okay. Thanks, Uncle Ian," _Clara said.

"You're welcome." Ian paused for a moment himself. "Try to get some sleep, Clara. I'll see you later."

Disappointment could be clearly heard in her next words. _"All right. Good night, Uncle Ian," _she replied.

"Good night, luv." Ian flipped his phone closed and slipped it back into his pocket with a sigh. He glanced out the window at the dark sky, hardly able to see a thing since the moon's light had all since faded. If possible, this conversation had unsettled him even more than the one with Riley, mainly because of how observant his niece was.

_You're afraid of him too, aren't you, Uncle Ian?_

It was a question he knew was going to haunt him for one simple reason– it was true. He _was_ afraid when it came to his father.

Ian leaned forward and rested his hands on the windowsill. He wasn't afraid _of_ his father like the fifteen-year-old thought. After all, he had grown up with the man. He was a man he understood, to an extent. But along with that understanding, he had to admit that he was afraid of what his father could _do_ to the people he cared about. It was no secret that Richard Howe was a ruthless man. He was known to go to whatever length necessary to get what he wanted, and the blond Brit knew that wouldn't be any different this time. The man had already sent some of his henchmen to beat Nick to within an inch of his life, a beating that was meant for him, and he dreaded to think what he could do this time with so much on the line.

It was an unsettling thought because it was one that he didn't have an answer for.

"Ian?"

Not necessarily startled by the quiet sound of his name, the Englishman glanced over his shoulder to see that Nick was sitting up on the couch and looking back at him, appearing to be wide awake. "I didn't mean to overhear your conversation, but you were in the room," the younger man muttered. "Everything okay with Clara?"

"Yes, Nick, everything's fine," Ian said with a small smile. "She was just wondering how Phil was doing."

"And how is he doing?"

"His fever should break soon, and the infection and swelling in his hand has gone down quite a bit," Ian told him. "We're hoping he'll wake by morning."

"That's good." Nick seemed to be appeased by this answer, but then, hesitance crossed his face. "And... why were you talking about Richard?"

Ian's gaze faltered slightly. His stepbrother's blatant use of the older man's first name cemented for him the divide that existed between him and his father. He had never really referred to Richard as "dad" when they were growing up, but there was something different about the use of his name now.

"She just wanted to know a little more about him," Ian replied quietly. "She said she was afraid of him, and I told her it was understandable. She should be cautious around him."

"That she should," Nick agreed. "You know what he's capable of better than anyone."

Ian gazed at the younger man for a long moment, remembering how he had returned home years before when Nick had only been a teenager to find him beaten and sleeping on the couch as Shaw watched over him, polishing his gun since he suspected that whoever had attacked his stepbrother would return. Yes, he was fully aware of what his father was capable of when there was something that he was after.

"Why don't you get some sleep, Nick?" the blond Brit suggested quietly. "There's still a couple hours before sunrise left."

Nick chuckled, however, and stretched as he rose to his feet. "I don't think I'm going to get anymore sleep tonight," he muttered. "Hope you don't mind some company."

A small smile appeared on Ian's face, but a quiet sigh still escaped from him. "Of course not," he said. "Come. Let's go see how Phil's doing. I'm sure Powell's sleeping right through everything."

* * *

_"Tonight I gotta cut loose_

_Footloose_

_Kick off your Sunday shoes_

_Please, Louise_

_Pull me off of my knees_

_Jack, get back_

_C'mon before we crack..."_

Phil groaned quietly when the loud sound echoed near his ear. He turned his head, trying to escape from it, but no luck. The annoying sound seemed to follow him.

Then, an obnoxious but familiar laugh could be heard, followed by an equally obnoxious but familiar voice. "Rise and shine, Sleeping Beauty! Time for you to rejoin those of us in the land of the living."

"Powell... turn that... crap off..." Phil managed to mutter, though he didn't open his eyes. Perhaps if he continued to try to ignore the song that was still blaring in his ear, it would simply go away.

However, Powell just chuckled again. "Not really your style? Well, here then, Sunshine. How about this one?"

_"I see a red door,_

_And I want to paint it black..."_

Phil groaned once more, reaching up to attempt to fold the pillow around his head to block out the noise. In his humble opinion, the Stones were just as bad as the musical that had preceded it. "Damn it, Powell..."

"All right, all right. I think this one will be more to your liking, Peanut."

_"Master of Puppets pulling your strings_

_Twisting your mind and smashing your dreams_

_Blinded by me, you can't see a thing_

_Just call my name, 'cause I'll hear you scream..."_

This caused Phil's eyes to flutter open, and the first thing he saw was the Scotsman's smiling face looking back down at him. He stopped the song playing on the cell phone that he held tightly in his hand when he saw that it had the desired effect, handing the small device back to Nick, who was standing beside him. Ian stood behind the two men, shaking his head as he gave a slight roll of his eyes.

"That awful racket reminds me of the stuff that you used to listen to all the time," he muttered, casting an annoyed glance in his stepbrother's direction.

Nick smiled in response. "I still do," he replied with a quiet laugh. "You're just never around to hear it."

Ian crossed his arms in front of him. "Thankfully."

Phil's brow furrowed slightly as he gazed up at his three colleagues. "Y'know, Ian... For as long as I've known you... I don't think I've ever seen you turn on a radio or anything," he stated. "What kind of music _do_ you actually like?"

The blond Brit smirked down at the tallest member of his group. "I don't," he said simply, and it was clear that was the only response that they were going to get involving that particular matter.

Phil shook his head slightly. "You are crazy..." But then, he winced slightly at the motion and closed his eyes again.

Ian's smirk vanished as he stepped past Powell and Nick and sat down on the bed next to the younger man. "How are you feeling?" he asked, carefully grasping Phil's wrist to inspect his hand. He was relieved to see that the redness and the swelling that had persisted around the spider bite throughout the night had been reduced to almost nothing. He then proceeded to briefly set the back of his hand on his forehead, the broken fever confirming his suspicion that the infection was finally nearly taken care of. His cohort was no longer in any danger.

"My head is killing me..." Phil answered quietly, rubbing his head after his leader removed his hand. "What happened?"

"You had a pretty dangerous spider bite," Ian explained while Powell went off to search for the pain killers that Ben had picked up the night before with the fever reducer, which at least was no longer needed. "Why didn't you tell us about it sooner?"

Phil sighed as he lowered his faltering gaze. "I just..." He paused for a moment before he met the Englishman's eyes. "With what your dad was doing and everything, I didn't want to slow you down, Ian. You have enough to worry about."

Ian didn't have a response for a long moment. But then, a small smile appeared on his face. "Well, I wish you would have told us," he muttered. "That way, we could have tended to it sooner. I'm just relieved that it wasn't too late. I wouldn't be concerned about my father for the moment. Besides, we'll be able to catch up with him. We have our next clue."

Powell glanced over at him as he approached the bed and handed a couple of aspirin to Phil along with a small plastic cup of water after he managed to sit up a little with some help from Ian. "We do?" he wondered.

Nick glanced at his older stepbrother curiously, recognizing the familiar gleam in his eye as he nodded once.

"We do."

After ordering Phil to rest up a little more, Ian gave Ben a quick call to update him and his family on his colleague's condition, and since he was actually awake, agreed to meet with him and Riley to go over the clue that he had gotten from Castle Dracula. Ian, Powell, and Nick reached the lobby first, and they waited for about ten minutes before the treasure hunter and the techie appeared. The latter was dragging his feet behind the older man, and there were hints of heavy shadows under his eyes. Ian had the sneaking suspicion that Riley hadn't gotten any sleep after their late night discussion.

"So, what'd you get?" Ben asked as soon as he approached the other three men.

Ian glanced around the lobby, seeing that that were a couple of old women sipping coffee and talking by he window while a young mother was leading her toddler around the middle of the room, helping him to walk. He then nodded to a small table in the corner away from the other people, and he led the group to the makeshift secluded spot. The blond Brit sat in one of the chairs while Ben sat across from him, Nick taking the seat in between them while Riley slumped into the remaining chair. Powell stood behind his long time friend and leader as he pulled out a few sheets of fragile, faded paper from inside his leather jacket. He carefully unfolded them and smoothed out the creases as best as he could before he set them in the middle of the table so they could all see.

"Before we went on the tour of the castle yesterday, we discovered that there were a few pages missing from the journal of my ancestor who had tried to negotiate with Dracula," Ian explained. "We figured that the most likely place they would be was where my father found the journal to begin with, which was the bedchamber. Fortunately, we were able to get these first."

"You think they'll be able to tell us where to search for that mirror next?" Powell wondered, taking one of the sheets when Ian offered it to him to look over.

"Most likely," the Englishman replied, passing out another sheet to Nick and then to Ben. He kept the last one for himself, considering that it appeared Riley was ready to fall asleep at any moment. The techie, however, just leaned over and gazed at the page that the treasure hunter was holding. "The mirror's been touched on a couple times in the journal already. It appeared that it was a very valuable item of Dracula's. He took it with him wherever he went."

"Vain much?" Riley mumbled, causing Ben to smile slightly as they continued to read over the neat handwriting on the page they were studying.

Even Ian chuckled quietly at the comment as he turned his attention to the page that he held, starting to read it over. But as he continued through the entry, his eyes continued to narrow. The tone of this passage, which was shorter than most other ones, was different than the others that he had read in the diary. It was apprehensive, almost on the verge of frantic, as his ancestor spoke of something valuable that he had hidden in his home that Dracula would miss. Realization dawned on him then, and Ian glanced up from the page for a moment.

His ancestor had stolen something from the Count, something that he valued highly. For a wild moment, he wondered if it was what they were now searching for. After all, the mirror wasn't in Castle Dracula. It was a logical conclusion.

But that would mean...

"Hey, I may have found something," Nick suddenly spoke up.

Ben set down his sheet while Powell looked up from the one he was reading. "What is it?" the treasure hunter asked. "Ours just talked about one of his trips to Transylvania." The Scotsman nodded his agreement.

"It says here that on one of this guy's return trips home to England, he was contacted by Dracula," Nick answered them, looking around at the four sets of curious eyes that now rested on him. "Apparently the negotiation went both ways, because the Count went to visit him in England a couple times. And by the sounds of it, he wasn't looking forward to said visits."

"Could you really blame him?" Powell wondered rhetorically.

Ian thoughtfully looked down at the sheet he held again, everything suddenly making sense to him. If Dracula had left Transylvania a couple of times to visit his ancestor in England, he must have known that he was the one who had taken the mirror, and he had gone there to search for it. Killing him then could have been suspicious, especially considering he couldn't have been completely sure that he was the one who had taken it, and it was now understandable why his ancestor feared for his life when he made his last visit to Transylvania to attempt to negotiate with Dracula. The Count would have been furious if he had refused to give him back the mirror...

After scanning over the short passage one more time, the Brit casually turned the page over to see if there was anything else, and his eyes caught something strange on the back. Scrawled across the center of the page were seven lines of numbers that contained a set of three digits in each line, all beginning with the number forty-two. Worrying his bottom lip between his teeth, Ian turned it back to the front side, thinking over what the numbers could possibly mean.

"So, we know that Dracula went to England," Ben muttered as he looked at the page that Nick had previously been reading over. "It's possible that he could have brought the mirror with him, which would explain why it wasn't in the castle. Maybe he accidentally left it there even. And it looks like there are some coordinates of where the house was located."

"Let me see." Riley held his hand out and quickly scanned over the page to find the location that his best friend was talking about. "Once we get there, that'll be easy enough to find. I'll just put it in my laptop, and it'll lead us straight there."

"Well, I think it's pretty clear what we have to do next," Powell stated, lightly clapping Ian on the shoulder.

The Englishman glanced up from the small paragraph he was reading over yet again and briefly looked at the older man before looking around to see that Nick, Ben, and Riley were all looking in his direction. He sighed quietly before giving them all a smug smile.

"Yes, Powell," he muttered. "We catch the next plane to England."

**Author's Note**: Well, not only is Phil improving greatly, but we have our heading! With Richard one step ahead of the group, will they be able to catch up with this new information? Well, we'll have to find out next time when we get back to England! Thanks for reading! Your reviews are much appreciated. Thank you!


	16. Chapter 15

**Disclaimer**: I own no one from National Treasure! Just the movies that I am basing this story on.

**Author's Note**: Hey, guys! Sorry for the bit of a delay with this chapter. I'm approaching midterms, so my free time has been a bit scarce as of late. But, thanks for hanging in there! The hunt is definitely in full swing now as the race between Ian and Richard continues. Who will get to the prize first? Well, we'll have to continue to find out! Enjoy!

_Chapter 15_

Richard stepped through the front door of his large house after Gerald, his ever faithful butler, opened it for him. It was a relief to be home after the long plane ride. He set his suitcase down as Joel walked in after, setting his own bag down next to his employer's, and they both watched as Gerald took them both and began to bring them upstairs.

"What are we doing here exactly?" the burly man asked. "I thought we were looking for that mirror that belonged to Dracula or something."

A small smirk appeared on the older man's face as he looked back at his hired hand. "We are, Joel," he answered calmly as he started to slowly limp his way up the same staircase Gerald had disappeared up only a couple of minutes before. "I'm not exactly sure what was on those missing diary pages that Ian managed to retrieve before we did, but regardless, he's intelligent enough to figure out that the next stop is here in England. However, we have an advantage that he does not. Come, I'll show you."

Joel waited until Richard got a little further up the steps before he began to follow him, slowing his pace to match the other man's until they reached the second floor. Richard then led him down the hallway until they came to a set of tall, double doors, and they entered the familiar room that was his study. The younger man crossed his arms and looked around at the shelves of books and artifacts with disinterest as the man who hired him made his way across the room to the desk that sat beneath the window. He pulled a cigarette out of the packet of his dress pants followed by a lighter, taking a hit off it as he pulled open the drawer. Joel watched as Richard dug around inside for a few minutes before he pulled out a thin book and held it up as he exhaled some smoke.

"Do you know what this is?" he wondered.

The younger man shrugged slightly. "No."

Richard smiled as he brought the cigarette back to his mouth. "This is the key to finding what we need," he told him.

Joel looked at the worn gray cover doubtfully for a moment before he arched an eyebrow. "I thought that Ian had the journal that you needed," he muttered.

"He does have the journal of our ancestor, yes," Richard admitted. "But this... this is a bit more recent. It's a servant's journal that I've come across in researching our ancestry." The look on the older man's face suddenly turned somewhat sinister. "And I'm sure you'll find it to be very insightful."

* * *

The next plane departing Transylvania to where the group needed to go wasn't until later in the afternoon. This gave Ian and his colleagues as well as Ben and his family plenty of time to pack up and prepare for the trip back to England. Fortunately, this also gave Phil more time to rest up before they took off. Clara was enthused about going back there since they hadn't been able to see too much of the country when they had been there a couple days for their layover, but the rest of her family was looking forward to the trip ahead with a much more somber attitude.

But it did appear that all of them were eager to leave Transylvania. When they finally got their tickets sorted out and boarded the plane, Ian sat near the back with Nick, Powell and Phil behind him. The latter man had to sit in the aisle seat so he could stretch his legs out a bit more to catch some more rest. Ian hated to drag him along when he was still regaining his strength, but he had no choice since leaving him behind was certainly not an option. Abigail and Riley were sitting in the seats across from him and his stepbrother, Ben and Clara making themselves comfortable in the seats ahead of them. It only seemed like they just got settled in before they were preparing for take-off.

Night fell a few hours after, and Phil and Powell were sleeping soundly, though the former had been asleep for most of the trip. Ben and Abigail both appeared to be sleeping peacefully, though Clara seemed a bit restless and Riley appeared adamant not to fall asleep until he finally lost the battle against his heavy eyelids. Ian glanced at Nick, who had fallen asleep looking out the window next to him before he sighed quietly and rose to his feet, reaching up and carefully digging around for his carry-on bag so he hopefully wouldn't wake those around him. Fortunately, he was accustomed to being the last to allow himself to sleep, if he slept at all. He finally found what he was searching for and pulled it down, balancing the bag on his knee and quickly glancing around at the sleeping members of his group before he pulled out the journal of his ancestor along with the missing pages. The blond Brit set the bag back up on the shelf before he returned to his seat, taking a deep breath as he opened the worn book and began to search for where the missing pages belonged.

It took quite a bit of time, just how long was unclear to him, and Ian rubbed his tired eyes and leaned his head back against the seat when he finally had the puzzle all figured out. But then, his brow furrowed slightly as he reached into his leather jacket and pulled out the folded page that he had been keeping close to him since they looked them over in Transylvania, the one with the strange numbers that only he knew about. He smoothed out the creases as best as he could and turned the page over, reading over the seven lines of numbers again. He knew they had to have some significance, but what that was, he wasn't sure yet.

42-1-15

42-10-7

42-4-26...

Shaking his head slightly since he was too tired to think about what they could possibly mean at that time, Ian carefully opened the journal once more and began to flip through the faded pages to try to find where the final page went. But he didn't get the chance.

"No... no... Go away..."

Ian paused when he heard the frantic mutterings from across the aisle, and his eyes narrowed slightly as he looked across from him and noticed that Riley's face had turned quite pale as he tossed and turned in his seat, his hands raised slightly in front of him as he tried to fight away some unseen foe. Sighing, the Englishman folded the page containing the short entry again and slipped it back into his jacket, shutting the journal as he rose to his feet to put it back in his bag. He had just pulled it down and set the book inside, closing the bag again and preparing to return it to the shelf, when something in the techie's continuous murmurings made him pause.

"Stop... please... Go away... Shaw..."

_Shaw_.

Ian felt some of the color leave his face as he slowly turned to look over at Riley, who even in his sleep appeared to be absolutely terrified of his now named adversary– his own former right hand man.

Setting his jaw firmly, the blond Brit was finally able to lift his carry-on bag and set it back on the shelf above him. He then sank back into his seat beside his younger stepbrother with a heavy sigh, closing his eyes for a brief moment as he leaned back against the headrest and attempted to block out Riley's frantic mumblings. They brought back memories that he found himself not wanting to have, ones he knew he couldn't have if he was going to remain focused in the race against his father.

Then, Ian saw that Clara was starting to stir out of the corner of his eye, and he quickly closed his eyes again just as she started to sit up in her seat. He listened closely while his niece turned and tried to gently wake the techie, which she succeeded in doing when he heard the younger man gasp.

The fifteen-year-old jumped slightly, startled by Riley's abrupt wakening as he looked around them in fear. "It's okay, Uncle Riley," she muttered, her eyes narrowing a little in concern. "We're not in any danger here."

A few more moments passed before the techie took a deep breath, allowing himself to relax as he slumped in his seat slightly. "N-no big deal, Clara," he was finally able to reply, giving her a weak attempt at his trademark grin. "I'm fine."

Clara rolled her eyes as a quiet chuckle escaped from her. But then, she glanced at her parents before she turned her gaze to her four uncles sitting across the aisle from them, ensuring that they were all asleep before she turned back to Riley. "Can I ask you something?"

Riley's eyes narrowed slightly as he passed a hand over his face. "Sure, what's up?"

The girl leaned a little closer to him. "Who's Shaw?" she wondered. "I heard you muttering about him last night too."

If possible, the techie's face turned a few shades paler. "Oh, uh..." he managed to mutter before he laughed a little. "Shaw was this guy who used to work with your parents and I. He was a good friend of Ian's."

Clara glanced across the aisle at her British uncle, and she was startled to see that his body seemed to have stiffened slightly. But then, realizing that she was probably just seeing things, she turned back to Riley. "And you were afraid of him?" she pressed.

Surprisingly, this made Riley laugh. "I don't know anyone who _wasn't_ afraid of him, Clara," he said. "Except perhaps for Ian, of course. And possibly Nick and the others. They just got used to him, I suppose. But believe me, my little bundle of joy. Being afraid of him was probably the smartest thing to be when it came to him."

The fifteen-year-old nodded slightly, but then she sighed. "If he's such a good friend of Uncle Ian's, where is he now?" she asked. It surprised her that he wasn't traveling with the blond Brit.

Riley's gaze faltered. "Well, uh, literally speaking, we're not quite sure," he finally answered, causing confusion to pass over his niece's face. "But he, uh... died quite a few years ago. Before you were born."

Clara's face fell as she turned to Ian again, watching him for a few moments while he slept. She instantly felt terrible for him. "That's awful..."

"Yeah." But then, Riley leaned toward her a little and lowered his voice. "If I were you, Clara, I wouldn't mention this to Ian at all. I think it would be best if he didn't know that we were talking about Shaw."

The fifteen-year-old nodded, but she kept her eyes on the Englishman. The techie sighed, causing Clara to glance at him as he rose to his feet. "I'm gonna run to the bathroom," he explained when he saw her questioning look. "Get some sleep."

"Okay, Uncle Riley." Clara watched as he disappeared through the door into the small bathroom at the back of the plane before she once more turned back to Ian. Her eyes widened in surprise when she saw that the blond Brit's own eyes were already open as he looked back at her. It wouldn't have surprised her if he had heard the entire conversation. She started to open her mouth, but to say what she wasn't quite sure other than some sort of apology, but she stopped when Ian shook his head slightly. He then put a finger to his lips, and the girl sighed when she had no choice but to nod in response as she tried to find a comfortable spot in her seat again before she closed her eyes.

But just like the Englishman, she knew that she wouldn't be getting any more sleep that night.

* * *

The rest of the flight was relatively uneventful. After everyone else woke the next morning, they were given a decent-sized breakfast, which the entire group greatly appreciated. Both Clara and Riley appeared to be visibly exhausted from their lack of sleep, while Ian, who was more accustomed to sleepless nights, appeared to be determined to focus on the journey ahead as he glanced over the newly added pages to the diary one more time.

"So, what's the plan?" Ben asked, leaning in the aisle to speak with the blond Brit easier.

"Well, Riley's cleverness with a computer will lead us to our next destination," Ian answered as he glanced up at the treasure hunter. "As for everything else, leave that to me. With my connections all over England, I'll arrange the accommodations."

The techie smirked. "Well, I suppose that's one of the upsides to having a Brit in the group," he muttered, causing Ian to roll his eyes.

Once they landed in the familiar airport a couple hours later, nearly everyone was on guard. Since it could be assumed that Richard Howe had also left Transylvania after he had found nothing there, it could just as easily be assumed that he was also back in England to regroup and figure out how to proceed in his hunt. The fact that he didn't have any leads put their minds at rest except for Ian, who knew his father better than that. He knew that he always had some sort of option to enable him to keep playing, and he didn't think that this game would be any different.

Clara went with her British uncle to find and look over a bus schedule, clearly disappointed when she saw that it wasn't for a double-decker bus. "We're not going sightseeing, luv," the Englishman told her with a quiet chuckle. "Perhaps if we have time, I'll take you on one of the tours. If not, there is always next time."

The fifteen-year-old nodded slightly in response. But then, she sighed. "Uncle Ian?"

Ian briefly glanced up from the schedule curiously before looking back and checking his watch. "Yes?"

Clara watched him for a moment longer before her gaze faltered. "I'm sorry about your friend," she murmured.

The blond Brit stopped folding up the schedule, closing his eyes for a second before turning back to his niece. "That was a long time ago," he said quietly as he slipped the schedule into the pocket of his leather jacket. "And also nothing for you to concern yourself with. I actually wish that you didn't know that happened. It was... an unfortunate accident."

The girl opened her mouth to ask what happened, but she was stopped by her uncle setting his hand on her shoulder. "Don't dwell on that," he told her with a small smile. "There are other more important things that we have to think about now. Okay?"

Clara nodded, clearly not pleased with how the conversation had gone. But Ian said nothing more as he squeezed her shoulder before he walked back toward where the rest of the group was waiting for them. His niece slowly followed.

They didn't have to wait too long outside of the airport for the bus to arrive, though Ian had spent quite a bit of time on the phone as he arranged for a hotel. "It's nice to be back here, isn't it?" Nick wondered as he followed his older stepbrother onto the bus with his bags.

Ian smiled slightly as he glanced back at him. "Yes, Nick," he agreed, taking one of the available seats near the middle while the younger man sat across the aisle from him since the seat next to Ian was occupied by an elderly woman. "Though I wish that we could be here for a different reason."

Powell and Phil sat in front of their leader soon after. Ben and Abigail managed to find two seats a couple of rows ahead of Ian's group while Clara sat next to Nick and Riley sat behind his niece and the other man. The fifteen-year-old enthusiastically asked Nick a lot of questions about what everything was as they made their way through the city, to which he cheerfully answered. Ian smiled slightly as he watched them, able to see that his younger stepbrother was happy to be back in the second place that he called home.

But then, he smiled slightly when he saw the tall building that loomed before them. "Nick," he muttered.

Nick glanced back at him, noticing the smile on the older man's face before he looked out the window again, and a matching look appeared on his face when he saw the building himself. "Hey, cutie," he said, setting his hand on her shoulder and pointing. "This is the house that your Uncle Ian and I used to live in before we moved to the United States."

Clara smiled as she looked up at the two-story house too, her gaze traveling over the many-paned windows and the wooden trim. But then, her eyes narrowed slightly. "No one's living in it now?" she wondered.

Ian chuckled quietly when he saw the "For Sale" sign that sat on the front lawn in front of the house. He wasn't too surprised, knowing that he probably scared away the couple and their young son who had been living there when he had last visited England and started pulling up floorboards and revealed other secret compartments that he and Shaw had installed, all to try to locate the dagger that they still couldn't find. He sighed quietly, the smile on his face turning slightly somber.

"Guess not," Nick replied. Then, he smirked slightly as he turned to face his older stepbrother. "What do ya say, Ian? When we're done with this hunt, the two of us move back in."

Powell turned to look at the younger man, appearing to be offended. "Hey, now. What about me and Phil?" he pressed, to which the tallest member of their group nodded his agreement. "There's enough room for the four of us. We could all retire together." The smirk on his face, however, showed that he was just speaking in jest.

Ian forced his smile to broaden. "Sounds like a plan," he muttered, though he didn't appear to be fully in the conversation.

Riley, curious about where the blond Brit had used to live, glanced out the window, quickly looking over the house and finding that it was quite nice. But then, his eyes widened fearfully as he jumped back in his seat a bit and a startled sound escaped from him. Ian glanced over at him curiously while Nick turned in his seat to look back at the techie.

"Hey, Riley, two criminal masterminds may have lived in that house, but it's not _that_ scary," he said.

However, Riley shook his head, looking back at the other man with fear in his eyes. "There was someone in the house!" he replied anxiously. "I saw them! I didn't get a good look, but someone moved past the window!"

Nick glanced at Ian with concern. "The house is empty, Riley," the latter gently reminded him.

The techie didn't say anything in response, but his light eyes kept darting toward the house nervously as they continued to pass it. Ian looked at it one more time himself, but just as he had told the younger man, the house was empty.

However, all of Riley's fear was forgotten about when they reached the fancy hotel that the Brit had managed to get for them, and he gazed at the large suite that lay before him. "Ian, I don't know who your connections are, and something tells me that I don't wanna know, but they sure know how to pick a hotel!"

Ian chuckled, silently agreeing that it was the best idea that the younger man didn't know who his connections were. After agreeing to meet with him and Ben in a few minutes once they settled in so they could go scout their next location, the Englishman led the way down the hallway to where the room his group would be staying in was and unlocked the door. The room was just as large as Ben's with a spacious living area with two couches and two bedrooms. Powell, Nick, and Phil agreed that Ian should get one of them, but who would get the second room was still up for debate. It didn't take long for them to settle on Phil, who was still recovering from his encounter with the deadly spider and appeared to be absolutely exhausted from the flight.

"That means we both get a couch, Nick!" Powell laughed, to which the younger man groaned with agitation. Ian, still not quite understanding the significance of his younger stepbrother having to sleep on couches, shook his head slightly as he went into his bedroom to set his bag inside.

Once he was unpacked a little, Ian made sure that Phil was okay as he settled in his own bedroom for a nap before he walked back into the living area to see that Powell had already turned on the television and Nick was stretched out on the couch that the Scotsman hadn't claimed. Glad that everyone seemed to be comfortable, the blond Brit left the room and walked down to the lobby, where he only had to wait for a few minutes for Ben and Riley. The techie had the coordinates from the missing diary pages programmed into his cell phone from his laptop, as well as set into his GPS, and the three men left the hotel and caught a taxi. After paying the driver more than he earned in a month, he agreed to follow the directions that Ian gave him.

"So, do you think this is like a house or something?" Riley asked quietly while the Brit continued to guide their way.

Ben shrugged. "At the time, I'm sure it was," he answered. "It was a place that Dracula visited this man at, so it seems the most likely case."

Riley sighed quietly. "Yes, but do you think it's a house _now_?" he rephrased his question. "It's been a long time since Dracula was here, Ben."

"That, I'm not sure." Ben worried his bottom lip thoughtfully between his teeth. "I'm hoping so. That would be the easiest..."

However, those hopes were dashed when they finally pulled up to their destination. Ian sighed as he ran a hand through his light hair. "Gentlemen, we have a... slight hinderance on our hands," he muttered.

Riley groaned quietly as he rested his head back against the seat while Ben stared straight ahead with resignation. The coordinates had led them to a large, popular shopping center.

**Author's Note**: Can't make things too easy for our favorite group of hunters, can we? Well, the good news is, Spring Break is a couple weeks away for me, so hopefully, I'll be able to update at least a little more frequently for a little bit. So, thanks for sticking with me! Thanks for reading! Your reviews are much appreciated. Thank you!


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